


Murder With You

by Mrs_SimonTam_PHD



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, BDSM, Blood!Kink, Bloodplay, Bondage, Bottom!Sam, Court Proceedings, Doctor!Sam, Dom/sub, Human AU, John Winchester’s A+ parenting, Lots of Sex, M/M, Marine!Lucifer, Serial Killers, Sex, Sub!Sam, Torture, alcoholic!Dean, dom!Lucifer, erotophonophilia (murder!kink), hematolagnia, homophobia tw, lood, murder husbands AU, prior homophobia, top!Lucifer, torture!kink, tw suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 14:59:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 30
Words: 38,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8290010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD/pseuds/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD
Summary: "It is better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven"- John Milton, Paradise LostSam and Lucifer Winchester are your average homosexual couple. They work. They live together. They have sex. They are pillars of the community, between Sam's medical practice and Lucifer helping train the next generation of Marines. People could be proud to know. People who were liked.But there's an itch beneath their skin that craves for a certain part of the population to be eradicated. The ones who bash veterans such as Lucifer and call them horrible names and accuse them of crimes simply because of the military. The ones who give disgusted looks to Sam when his husband calls him to say that he made it into the house safely and exclaim 'I don't want some faggot treatin' me, I'll find another doctor!'They crave for that blood to be spilled, and spill it they do.The scary part is?They enjoy it.Author’s Notes: The rape/non-consensual tag is there because of certain scenes portrayed. There is no rape in this fic- any and all sex in the fic is completely consensual.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Notes: The rape/non-consensual tag is there because of certain scenes portrayed. There is no rape in this fic- any and all sex in the fic is completely consensual. 
> 
> HERE'S MY SAMIFER BIG BANG 2016
> 
> Special thanks to my artist (ellstra)
> 
> Special thanks to my betas (platonic-rabbit) (brieflymaximumprincess)

In an old farmhouse on the outskirts of a tiny, nondescript town in the middle of Nowhere, Montana, USA, there lived a couple, Doctor and Colonel Winchester. 

Dr. Samuel Winchester was a giant of a man, over six feet tall with shoulder length chestnut colored locks that made the women who walked into his practice jealous with how easy and natural it looked, and he was always asked what shampoo and conditioner he used. He had eyes that never seemed to stay the same color, and a bright, easy going smile with dimples. He was great with kids, and very kind with everyone. He didn’t prescribe a whole lot of medications, prescribing more homeopathic remedies that saw wonders. His older brother, Dean Winchester, had followed in the path of Old Man Winchester and was the town alcoholic, albeit a nicer drunk than the man they called father. Dean had fallen to drinking shortly after his high school sweetheart disappeared. 

Colonel Lucifer Winchester, né Novak, had been in United States Marine Corps, and he never let anyone forget it. He was roughly six feet tall, wiry, with piercing ice blue eyes and a weathered expression on his face. His pale blond hair wasn’t at regulation length any more, but it was still short, although messy. Retired after a shot to the hip that nearly cost him his life, he walked with a very slight limp that was disguised with the use of a cane, topped with the Marine Corps crest and a snarling bulldog. He never really smiled, but gave half smirks and sardonic wit. His older brother, Michael, ran the law office in town and his younger brother, Gabriel, ran the year round ice cream stand just down the street from the school. No one knew where the youngest Novak brother, Castiel, was, having disappeared when Lucifer was off at war.

The Winchesters seemed like normal people, living normal lives. Lucifer preferred to stay at home and take care of the house, making sure that he still kept up his physical fitness from his Marine days. In his spare time, when he wasn’t making things for Sam to eat throughout the week or taking care of the garden in their backyard, he helped to train young men and women in preparation for boot camp. Sam worked with his own practice, did clinics on healthy living, and worked at the ER whenever they were short staffed and his practice could spare him, and ran most of the couple’s errands, as well as checking in on Dean three times a week to make sure his brother hadn’t drank himself to death. 

The two had grown up together, with Dean making heart eyes at Castiel, who was Sam's age, and Sam preferring to hang out with the older boys, Gabriel and Lucifer, but especially Lucifer. Lucifer and Sam were four years apart, and when Lucifer turned eighteen, he signed on the dotted line and joined the service. Sam stayed behind, grew through puberty and endured walking in on Castiel and Dean and beatings from Old Man Winchester. After a fight when he was sixteen, Sam moved in with Gabriel, who had his own place and was about to set up Trickster Ice. 

Sam left town for twelve years, getting his pre med at Stanford and his M.D. from Johns Hopkins, graduating third in his class. He returned home and began working, and had been working for two years when Lucifer limped in through the clinic door, the older man nearly dropping his cane when he saw his gorgeous boyhood friend. They quickly fell into a relationship and they were engaged four months later. 

The wedding was a simple, quiet affair at the judge’s office, with Sam wearing a white tuxedo and Lucifer his dress blues as they said their vows in front of family and Judge Jody Mills, who smiled fondly at the two young men about to begin their lives together as husbands, recalling the day she had been able to do the same with the town sheriff, Donna Hanscum.

All in all, the Winchesters seemed like a clean cut duo, with a white picket fence _.  _ They helped out in the community and were considered upstanding citizens. They were role models to be followed. 

But they weren’t. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Domestic Morning

Lucifer rolled over and returned to spooning his husband of six years soon after Sam's alarm went off. He sighed and snuggled into the warmth, placing a feather light kiss on the back of his neck. 

“Good morning, husband,” he purred softly. 

“Ngh.” was Sam’s intelligent response, burying his head deeper into the pillows. 

Lucifer laughed. “C’mon, time to get up. Let’s go work up a sweat.” 

“How many miles today?” Sam asked sleepily, poking his head out of the covers. 

“I was thinking three, we can take a day off tomorrow,” Lucifer admitted, kissing his cheek. “I know how sore my doctor must be after last night.”

Sam chuckled deeply and rolled over, kissing the center of Lucifer’s broad chest. “I’m not so sore that I wouldn’t be up for a repeat performance,” he murmured. 

Lucifer rumbled a soft laugh and kissed the top of Sam’s head. “Well, maybe tonight, when you get back from wood chipping,” he said. 

“You can’t do it today?” Sam pouted playfully. 

Lucifer shook his head. “This run this morning’s gonna kill my hip, I won’t even be able to pick my tomatoes today,” he explained. 

Sam trailed his hand down and gently ran his calloused fingers over the scar over Lucifer’s jutting right hipbone, watching his husband’s eyes darken. “Have you been chewing the willow bark I gave you?” He asked quietly. “And taking your Vicodin?” 

“Yes. It’s because we’re expecting that major thunderstorm tomorrow,” the Marine murmured just as softly. “It always acts up when it’s about to rain.” 

Sam gave a shit eating grin. “Old soldiers know by their scars when it’s gonna rain,” he quipped, laughing as Lucifer growled and reached behind the doctor to give him a firm spank on the rear, causing the taller man to gasp and buck his hips against his husband’s, rubbing their morning wood together. 

“Nope, not gonna happen, sunshine,” Lucifer grinned wolfishly. “You  _ know  _ better than to call me ‘soldier’,  _ boy. _ ”

Sam laughed and sank into the memory foam mattress. “I know,  _ Sir, _ ” he purred. 

“I should spank that ass of yours redder than anything, then plug you up for work for being a little shit.” 

“You should. But you won’t. Especially since I’m doing the chipping tonight.” Sam grinned. 

Lucifer hummed and kissed his husband sweetly, a contrast to the dark words and lustful eyes. “Mmm, yes. Tell you what. We’ll take a few days off of our routine to readjust and just have a lot of morning sex and nostalgia.” 

“I’d like that,” Sam hummed. “Down here, or up at the Inn?” 

“The Inn. I’ll help you get the wood down from there,” Lucifer promised. 

Sam smiled. “I love you.” 

Lucifer chuckled. “How much?” 

Hazel eyes slowly turning brown glittered. “I’d murder for you.”    
Piercing ice blue returned the gaze. “Baby, I’d murder  _ with  _ you.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inn

The Inn, as the Winchesters called it, was the upper level of their house, designed to hold another two occupants without them ever having to be seen except when they would go downstairs to exit the house. It had all the usual contents of a house - living room, kitchen, bathroom, and two bedrooms. No one ever asked to see it, because they wrote it off as storage, and everyone knew it. 

It was Sam and Lucifer's private little getaway, their home away from home, so to speak. 

The master bedroom of the upstairs was set up much like their bedroom downstairs, with a queen sized waterbed instead of a memory foam and silk sheets. Dark oak dressers lined the wall opposite, the closet hanging lazily open to reveal the button downs and flannels that they preferred to wear, the full length mirror that would catch the rising sun if there weren’t thick, black curtains on it, keeping the room shrouded in darkness. The carpet was lush and comfortable, and a deep burgundy color. On the front of the door, there read a sign. 

_ Dr. and Col. Winchester bid you to never enter this room of filth. The bathroom is right next door. _

The bathroom was a thing of beauty, if your idea of beauty was everything being colored blood red. And not a knock off shade of blood, either. The exact shade of blood from the moment it hit air. Even the marble bathtub, big enough that Sam could lay down in it comfortably, like a coffin, was blood red. The water almost seemed to run better up in the Inn’s bathroom than in Sam and Lucifer’s main living quarters. 

Just down the hall was the second bedroom, also done in that bright shade of oxygenated blood, and set up a bit differently than your average bedroom. There was a bed in there, with red sheets and comforter, the headboard made out of wrought iron. 

There was a second, smaller bed in there. It was a simple, wooden four post bed, also painted in the color of blood. The mattress was too, but whether or not it came like that or they dyed it is a mystery. Solid iron cuffs, the only thing not red in this room, were attached to the four posts at the end of the bed. 

In the corner of the room furthest from the blood red door were two giant freezer of the industrial size used by restaurants to keep fresh food. One of them was usually open, airing out, the other locked tightly shut with a twelve digit lock code. 

The kitchen kept up the theme of a house painted in blood, with red linoleum and quartz countertops, painted cabinets, the fridge, the  microwave. . . The only things not red were the knife handles when they were in the macabre looking knife block and the sparse amount of food that was kept in the Inn. It was usually restocked whenever the Inn had guests. 

The living room didn’t really look like a living room. It looked more like a sex dungeon. There was a blood red Saint Andrew’s cross, the padded cuffs looking a bit worn out from use. A tool chest sat beside the cross, locked with a singular key, keeping whatever was in there hidden. Lucifer wore the blood red key at all times, on a loop of red yarn around his neck, underneath his clothes. Upon the far wall, there were whips and floggers of varying sizes and materials. In the place of honor, right next to a photo of Sam and Lucifer holding hands, both of them kissing the back of each other’s, with small secretive smiles, was a black leather riding crop, the handle worn smooth and the leather of the crop flexible, producing an incredible noise whenever it was used. 

The entire upper floor was soundproofed, and had been since Lucifer and Sam moved in shortly after they married. 

The Inn was their sanctuary, their home above their home, and the place where they could most be themselves. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disposal and sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer and Sam recount killing someone. Skip if this squicks you

Sam smiled as he entered his home, smiling at the sight of his husband currently cooking something for dinner. “Honey, I’m home,” he teased, shrugging off the white lab coat and hanging it up on the coat rack by the door. 

“Hey baby, how was your day at the ER?” Lucifer asked, turning from his cooking to flash his husband a warm smile. 

“Tedious as always, but no new problems,” Sam hummed. “Little Samandriel was in, accidentally fell out of a tree and broke his arm. And Ben Braeden got into a car crash.” 

“Is he alright?” Lucifer asked. 

“He is, a few stitches and a concussion, they’re keeping him overnight for observation, and I told Lisa to bring him in in a couple days so I can do a neurological exam.” Sam loosened his tie as he walked over, resting his hands on Lucifer’s hips and kissing his cheek. “Smells good, angel. Steak?” 

“Steak fried in garlic butter, garlic mashed potatoes, and a mushroom and green bean mix.” Lucifer answered, twisting his head to give Sam’s cheek a kiss of it’s own. “All fresh vegetables, and I was able to snag some roses for the vase.” 

“I saw that, thank you,” Sam hooked his chin over his husband's shoulder to watch him cook, rocking his hips lightly into Lucifer’s. 

Lucifer chuckled. “Someone’s excited.” 

“I’m always excited to find my strong tough husband standing barefoot in my kitchen cooking a nice meal after a long day’s work,” Sam teased. 

“You’re just excited that it’s chipping day,” Lucifer laughed, bucking his hips back in an attempt to shoo his husband away so he can put the steaks in the oven. 

“That too,” Sam replied as he let go. “I’ll get us some drinks, what do you want, babe?” 

“Just snag me a beer, I’ll be fine on just that.” 

“Your hip doing okay? I know that storm’s going to hit tonight.” Sam walked over to the fridge and grabbed out two Shocktops, twisting the caps off with his bare hands. 

“It’s okay, I’ll take some Vicodin for it and I’ll be good. By the way, doc,” Lucifer slid his eyes over to his husband, who was now setting the table, “I’m going to need a cortisone shot soon. Think you can squeeze me in?” His eyes lingered on the supple ass that was bending over the table. 

“Are you really making a sex joke right now?” Sam chuckled, getting up and looking at his far from innocent husband, who was now chopping up mushrooms to sauté. 

“I might’ve been,” Lucifer admitted. “If only ‘cause your ass was up in the air and begging for it.” 

“You’re  _ insatiable  _ today,” Sam teased lightly. “We had, what, three rounds this morning?” 

“It was  _ two and a half,  _ you didn’t get to cum in the shower,” Lucifer protested. 

“No, but you  _ did  _ call me, order me into the bathroom, and talked dirty to me until I came,” Sam reminded him. “So, yes,  _ three,  _ you horndog.” 

“Mmm, I think we might have to revisit some of our favorite toys in the Inn, provided you clean up real nice,” Lucifer warned, winking. “You’ve gotten rather mouthy.” 

“You love my sass,” Sam laughed as he sat down and watched his husband cook. 

“Damn right I love that sassy ass of yours.” 

The two shared a fond look before Lucifer resumed making dinner, idly making small talk as they did so. They were the picture of domesticity. 

Lucifer served the beautiful dinner, having quickly made a gravy from the seared fat from the steak and an old recipe of his mother’s, and they ate, holding hands and teasing each other. Lucifer sometimes fed Sam off of his own fork while Sam stole off of Lucifer’s plate, smirking as he kissed his husband in thanks for the good food and for him being in his life as his lifelong partner. 

Over a second beer and as darkness set in, they discussed their upcoming plans. Sam had to visit Dean and make sure that he still remained among the living and hadn’t succumbed to the ever-present threat of alcohol poisoning, while Lucifer was going to see Michael and make sure that certain legal documents of their property were in order. They discussed a quick trip to Gabriel’s shop to see how Lucifer’s younger brother was doing, and once again talked about trying to find Castiel, although they had tried, and failed, many times over the years. 

Second beer finished, Sam stood up and stretched, cracking his back. “Alright, handsome husband of mine, we have work to do. You have the key?” 

“‘Round my neck as always,” Lucifer tugged the key out from under his shirt as he, too, stood up. He cracked his back and grabbed his cane from by the front door. “Lead the way, my King.” 

Sam smiled and tugged Lucifer close to place a chaste kiss on his cheek. “I love it when you call me that,” he murmured. 

“I know,” Lucifer smiled, tapping Sam’s rear with the cane. “Hmmmm. . . .” 

“Another night,” Sam promised as they went up the stairs to the Inn. “Key?” 

Lucifer slid the necklace off and handed it to Sam. “In the living room or our room?” he inquired. 

“Hmmm, living room, since that’s where it happened.” Sam recalled with an eerie, cruel glint in his eye as he unlocked and opened the door to the Inn. Sam smiled at the bloody interior, helping his husband over the threshold. “Get the burlap, I got the wood.” 

“You sure?” Lucifer asked quietly. 

“Of course. I can carry your lame ass up the stairs, I can handle seven small bundles of wood.” Sam laughed and skipped out of the way of Lucifer’s swishing cane. The tip of it connected with the side of of his rear and he yelped. 

“Young whippersnapper,” Lucifer teased as he hobbled into the kitchen to grab the burlap. Grabbing the heavy bags, he dragged them to the second bedroom and watched his husband lean into the freezer. “Mmm, that’s a sight,” he purred. “Remember the first time I took you bent over the freezer?” 

“Mmm, I do. Damn you felt so good, pinning me between ice and heat,” Sam sighed as he pulled out two legs, an arm, and half a torso and set them down on the other one. “Did you pack the freezer?” 

“Nope, you did,” Lucifer said, putting the parts into the burlap. 

“Dammit, I wedged the head in there a bit more tightly than usual,” Sam grumbled. A scrape of ice and a grunt later, a head, the other part of the torso, and the other arm replaced the parts before it and he closed and locked the freezer, hissing. “I cut myself on the ice,” Sam admitted. 

Lucifer inspected the wound after he placed the rest of the body they just took out into the burlap. “I’ll get some alcohol, gauze, and a bandage for you, good thing you wear long sleeves and it’s high up on your arm.” He placed a gentle kiss just over the scrape before hobbling into the bathroom as Sam knelt down and tied the bag off for carrying purposes. 

“I bleed for you,” he teased as Lucifer squatted to take a look at Sam’s arm. 

“Oh you dork,” Lucifer laughed as he lightly dabbed alcohol over the bleeding cut. “That you do, babe.” 

Sam sighed. “You know I could’ve stood up so you wouldn't put so much strain on your hip,” he admonished. 

“Are you telling me this as my doctor or as my husband?” Lucifer joked as he began applying the gauze. 

“How about both?” Sam frowned, kissing his forehead. “Seriously, Luce.”

“I know, I know. Don’t worry, I’ll sit on the couch like a good boy while you chip the wood and wait for a cowboy to come ride me.” The last part was said with a sultry wink from the former Marine.

Sam gave his husband a look. “Oh, is that what’s gonna happen?” he asked lightly, but with a twinkle in his eyes. 

“Mhm. And then I want you to talk dirty to me.” The bandage affixed, Lucifer pressed a warm kiss to it. 

“Which dirty?” Sam asked, standing up and helping his husband to stand. 

“Mmm, the really kinky one, dealing with how we handled the wood,” Lucifer whispered, pecking his husband’s lips. “Hurry home, that storm’s gonna break in about two hours.” 

Sam nodded and returned the kiss. “Love you.” 

“I know.” 

Sam winked and headed out, bounding down the stairs and out the front door after grabbing his heavy jacket. 

Outside, the early fall weather was somewhat chilly and completely dark. Thunder started rolling in as Sam made his way to the river by their property, smiling at the sight of the woodchipper. 

Checking his watch and seeing that it was still early enough not to be cited for a noise ordinance, not that it mattered with how far out in the country he and Lucifer were, Sam started up the wood chipper and made sure everything was working before shoving the body parts in, smiling in eerie satisfaction as he watched blood and very small bone fragments spurt out into the muddy water. 

The river behind their house was more of a “crick” than anything, and had the color of rusted metal, which made it perfect for when it was time for the Winchesters to go wood chipping. 

He looked the head over, the last piece to go in, and smirked. “Goodbye, ignorant ass. Nice having you stay at the Inn. For us,” he purred. He then shoved the head in and watched it get chipped away and sprayed into the creek. 

He found the bottle of bleach they kept in a hollow in one of the trees nearby and ran it through a wash cycle, bleaching the very minimal amount of blood away before patting the machine as he turned it off. “You did good, Hannibal,” he murmured. The machine stayed quiet, fed for now. 

Sam headed back to the house. He threw the burlap into the woodstove and hung up his coat before making his way back on up to the Inn, smiling at the sight that greeted him. “Did you get lonely?” he asked almost innocently as he began stripping off his clothes, watching his naked husband stroke himself lazily. 

“Just a little. How did it go?” Lucifer replied, lightly running his thumb over his cock head. 

Sam smiled as he cracked his neck. “Very well. It was quiet, no noise except for Hannibal chopping the wood and thunder,” he said. 

A loud crash of thunder happened, rain starting to patter against the windows and the house. 

“And just in time, too,” Lucifer purred. He pressed the switch above his head and the lights turned off. A flash of lightning illuminated the elder man’s face, ice blue eyes almost glowing in the temporary light. 

“Well, I might’ve ran back,” Sam confessed, strolling over to his husband naked. He climbed onto his lap and slid their hardened lengths together, both of them moaning in delight. 

“Mmm, fun,” Lucifer murmured, running his hands up and down Sam’s sides. “How loose are you baby?” 

“Fairly, I wore a plug part of the day,” Sam moaned. 

“Naughty little doctor,” Lucifer teased. 

“Mmm, naughty in all the wrong ways,” Sam chuckled. “I’m glad that he’s gone. He was such an ass.” 

“Oh, yes he was, and wasn’t cowed either until you yanked that tooth out of him,” Lucifer rumbled, one hand reaching down and in between Sam’s ass, sliding two fingers in. 

“He shouldn’t have called me such horrible names then,” Sam groaned, dropping his head down to rest on Lucifer’s shoulder. Another flash of lightening illuminated their figures, but not for long. 

“I know, baby, and it wasn’t fair of him to infer that you were the ‘weaker’ of us two,” Lucifer purred in Sam’s ear. “Just because you like my dick deep in your sweet ass.” 

Sam moaned rocked his hips onto Lucifer’s fingers. “Fuck, it feels so good, to be honest, wouldn’t want it the other way, not permanently.” 

“I think that punch to his face told him who’s just as strong as me,” Lucifer hummed. “No, you know what I loved most about this one?” 

“Hmm?” Sam moaned inquiringly, his breathing ragged as Lucifer slid a third finger into his hole, still slightly open from all the activity earlier. 

“How he laughed and mocked us until you slid that knife neatly across his throat,” Lucifer groaned. 

Sam smiled and moaned. “Fuck, I love slashing them from ear to ear. I copied that stupid fucking smile on his face onto his throat. Did you see how much his carotids spurted? It was beautiful.” 

“You got showered in his blood, and you looked  _ amazing, _ full of righteous fury and you just stood there and let him cough all that blood onto you, drenching you in it.” 

“I should’ve made another cut,” Sam moaned. “Just underneath the first one. And kept going until it looks like I was going to use his throat in something you were cooking.” 

“Mmm, an idea for next time, maybe?” Lucifer inquired, lifting Sam up and letting his husband slide down his length, both of them moaning loudly. “Fuck, you looked hot, drenched in blood and holding that knife tightly in your hands. Remember what I did then?” 

Sam shivered and rocked his hips once Lucifer had bottomed out inside of him. “Fuck, fuck yes. You took that knife and held it to my own throat and fucked me while murmuring in my ear that I’m a filthy sinner and not even Christ’s blood can save me.” 

“Well, it probably can’t,” Lucifer chuckled. “Oh, the noises you made, bloodied blade against your bloodied throat.” 

Sam moaned and ran his hands down Lucifer’s chest, looking down at him. The rain poured down, the thunder rolled. A flash of lightning made lust darkened eyes glow, and gave the elder man a brief glance of his husband writhing in ecstasy against him.

“Luci,” he whimpered. 

“I know,” Lucifer whispered back. One hand removed itself from his hip and he reached up to wrap it around Sam’s throat. “You like it when I play with your life as I fuck you hard.” 

“Always,” Sam whispered. “But I know you won’t ever take mine.” 

“No,” Lucifer breathed. “Never. I care about you too much.” 

Sam rolled his hips and whined. 

“Want me to squeeze?” Lucifer breathed. “Fuck up into you as I choke you until you cum?” 

“Yes, yes please,” Sam begged. 

Lucifer gently squeezed down on his throat as his hips rocked up into him harder and faster, using his other hand to slam Sam down onto his cock. 

It didn’t take long for Sam to cum all over Lucifer and himself, screaming loudly despite the constriction on his throat. 

“Fuck, yes, that’s beautiful,” Lucifer breathed, lasting two more thrusts before he came deep inside Sam. 

The younger man slumped against his husband, the older stroking his hair and making soothing noises as they came down together from their mutual highs. 

Breathing more regulated, Sam chuckled and kissed Lucifer. “I love it when you recount me killing,” he murmured hoarsely. 

“Same. I love seeing you drenched in blood and that fury in your eyes,” Lucifer purred soothingly. 

Sam smiled and nestled his nose against Lucifer’s. “You make it sound so romantic,” he teased. 

“Mmm, I do, but it’s beautiful, the way you look.” 

The doctor chuckled and kissed the Marine below him. “Maybe since I did the chipping tonight, the next kill is yours?” 

Lucifer’s eyes glittered in the next flash of light. “Yes. I’d like that very much.” 

Sam grinned. “Sounds good to me.” 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A normal day in the lives of Sam and Lucifer Winchester.

Sam sighed as he rolled out of bed one Monday morning, sore and tired but completely satisfied. Lucifer slept on, breathing warmly and softly. Smiling, Sam leaned over his sleeping husband and kissed his cheek. “Love you,” he whispered before he padded over to the closet. He pulled on cotton boxers and a white tank top before pulling on a pair of dark wash jeans and a black shirt. He grabbed a black and green plaid shirt and buttoned it up, glad he didn’t have to be in the ER today. He brushed his teeth and his hair before gazing in upon his now awake husband. 

“Hey, baby,” Sam hummed, coming over to kiss his lover properly. “How’s my Marine?” 

“The Marine is exhausted but extremely happy,” Lucifer moaned as he returned the sweet kiss. “How’s my doctor?” 

“Sore and tired but extremely satisfied,” Sam replied. “What about your hip?” 

“Being a pain in the ass, but the weeding needs to be done in the garden.” 

“Call me once you get into the house?” Sam asked. “I’ll give you your cortisone tonight.” 

“Many thanks, my love.” The ex-Marine burrowed back into the bed with a happy sigh. 

“For someone named ‘Light Bringer’ you really don’t like mornings,” Sam teased, kissing his husband’s cheek. “Get some rest, love. I’ll see you around five tonight.” 

Lucifer mumbled, already half asleep again and turned his head to kiss the doctor’s cheek. “Alright. Sounds good.” 

“Love you,” Sam hummed. 

“Mmm, how much?” Lucifer asked sleepily. 

“I’d murder for you.” 

The habitual response made Lucifer smile. “Baby, I’d murder with you.” 

“Call when you get into the house,” Sam reminded him before leaving. 

Dr Winchester walked the three miles to his practice, white lab coat over his arm and carrying his briefcase and lunch. Smiling his brightest grin at his receptionist, Charlie, Sam made his way into his office and got everything set up. “Charlie, can you bring on back Mr. Singer?” 

 

Lucifer finally rolled out of bed roughly two hours after his husband left and yawned as he stretched, being careful of his hip, which was tender that morning. Dressing in a simple pair of grey shorts and a black tank top, Lucifer made his way to the living room to begin his daily exercises, altering them as he went so he didn’t mess up his hip too badly. He also went easy on himself, especially after he counted up how many hours he'd spent fucking Sam over every surface of the Inn during the two day thunderstorm. 

Lucifer smiled at the thought as he did his pull ups, arms straining beautifully as his phone rang. Sighing, he pressed the Bluetooth in his ear with his shoulder. “Hello?” 

“Lucifer.” Michael’s smooth voice came over the line. “I didn’t hear from you this weekend.” 

Lucifer smiled as he remembered the past few days. “Sam and I were busy reaffirming our marital bond,” he said simply. “I believe we’re swinging by the firm on Thursday.” 

“Yes, Samuel made an appointment to discuss power of attorney privileges?” There was a question in the eldest Milton’s voice. 

“We actually want to talk to you about hiring a private investigator to find Castiel,” Lucifer explained, dropping down from his pull-ups and stretching his arms, relishing in the burn in his muscles. 

“Ahh, and you couldn’t just be a normal person and say ‘I would like to discuss finding my baby brother with my older brother’.” Michael’s voice warmed. “I just wanted to make sure you two were okay, you normally swing around on Sundays for brunch.” 

“Ahh, well, I’m not able to deny my husband when he gives me his best puppy eyes and asks for something,” Lucifer laughed. 

Michael chuckled. “Alright. Well, I’ll see you on Thursday.” 

“Yes,” Lucifer hummed. He hung up and sighed. Gathering up his gardening tools and his cane, he headed on outside. 

It was a beautiful day for weeding, and he enjoyed himself as he basked in the hot May sun and tended to his garden. Nature was one of Lucifer’s favorite things, and the garden he and Sam had planted was growing vibrantly, its contents an even mix of vegetables and roses of all varieties. 

By two-thirty, Lucifer had finished the weeding and had watered the garden, pruned the roses, and picked a healthy batch of cherry tomatoes. Popping a couple into his mouth, he shifted the basket onto his hip and picked up his cane, hobbling into the house. 

Setting the tomatoes in the sink to be rinsed, he called his husband. 

 

Sam got the call just as he was taking Donna Hanscums’ blood pressure. Lifting a finger for her to hold, mouthing an apology, he answered it. “Hello?” 

“Hey Sam, I made it into the house okay,” Lucifer’s voice came in through his head set. 

Sam breathed a prayer of thanks as he scribbled the number on Donna’s chart and started taking her pulse. “Oh, that’s good, I’m glad. Your hip bothering you much, angel?” 

“A little bit more than usual, but I’m going to make myself a sandwich and take some Norco and take it easy for the rest of the day,” his husband promised him. “Maybe clean up the kitchen up in the Inn. Pretty sure there’s things in there out of place.” 

Sam chuckled as he wrote down his patient’s pulse. “Well, don’t over exert yourself, babe. Need all of you.” 

“Mhm, that’s what they all say,” Lucifer laughed teasingly. “Alright. I’ll let you go, you sound like you’re in doctor-mode. I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Alright, Luci, love you.” 

“I know, my King.” 

Smiling, Sam hung up and gave a sheepish, apologetic look to the Sheriff. “Sorry about that,” he said. 

“Nah, it’s okay!” Donna said, patting Sam’s arm. “I understand, after that fall Lucifer had two winters ago, I get why he calls. He was out gardening, wasn’t he?” 

“Yeah, I kind of persuaded him the bed was the place to be all weekend so today was weeding and God knows what else,” Sam laughed. “Now, breathe deep for me? Good. Sounding good Donna.” 

She beamed up at him. “I’ve lost ten pounds since I last saw you,” she informed the doctor proudly. 

“That’s great news, I’m glad.” Sam grinned. 

“Could you send me that link to the salad recipes again?” 

“Of course. Now this is just your routine physical, and so far you’re passing.” he winked at her. 

“Sam Winchester, you are  _ married. _ ” 

“Happily so,” Sam smiled, rubbing the wedding band on his finger absently. 

“How long has it been, now?” 

“Seven years, eight in July.” Sam grinned. 

“Got anything big planned?” 

Sam shook his head. “Not yet, I don’t plan for that until June. Although, I will be closing the office for that week. Even if we don’t go anywhere special, you know how I like to spend my anniversary.” 

“Naked and covered in love bites?” Donna teased. 

Sam laughed, blushing. “Alright. I’ll email you that link to the salads. Say hi to Jody for me.” 

“Will do,” Donna said, standing up and giving Sam a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Tell Lucifer hi for me.” 

“I will,” Sam promised, waving her away, typing up his notes from that appointment before paging Charlie to send Balthazar back, sighing as he checked his notes for the patient’s main complaint. “Balthazar Roche, I thought you would’ve learned to use a condom when having anal sex.” Sam lectured when the man walked in.

The Englishman scoffed and rolled his eyes. “At least I was on the giving end. And I know you don’t use them.” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “That’s because, except for Jess while I was at Stanford, I haven’t had sex with anyone  _ but  _ Lucifer,” he reminded him, getting the blood draw kit out. 

Balthazar nodded. “How is he, by the way?” 

“Doing fine, he’s been in a bit of pain because of the storms we just had,” Sam explained. “Roll your sleeve up, please?” 

 

Lucifer groaned as he stared at the kitchen of the Inn. 

“I am going to spank his ass raw for putting everything away wrong,” he said thoughtfully as he began placing the knives back into the knife block properly. “Which is probably exactly the reaction he’s hoping for. Now. . .” 

He talked to himself about the various things he could do to his husband as payback for making him clean the kitchen of the Inn properly. He knew Sam probably did this as a way of getting into “trouble” and provoking Lucifer into really rough, kinky sex. It was a sign that his normally calm and demure husband was getting an itch to do something destructive, and needed something to take his mind off of it. Simply taking him hard and fast wouldn’t do. No, Sam needed to feel the adrenaline in his veins, have that runner’s high that made release seem even sweeter than usual. 

Sam needed blood. Fresh from the source. 

The first time this had happened, it took Lucifer too long to see the signs and nearly spoiled everything for them. But the Marine had figured it out before it all went to hell and now, he recognized that Sam had gotten the itch and he needed to act. 

Plan of attack in place and the Inn’s kitchen cleaned, he locked up and headed back downstairs to make a meatloaf. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer takes care of Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blood drinking in this chapter. Skip if this squicks.

“You’re a little shit, y’know that?” Lucifer mentioned as he cleared the table after dinner, smiling warmly at his husband. 

“Oh?” Sam inquired, taking a long sip of his beer. 

“I know why you messed up the Inn’s kitchen,” his husband confirmed. 

Sam shrugged. 

“Seriously. How long have you been feeling like this?” 

The doctor shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“I say it does.” 

“Maybe a week.” 

“Sam. You gotta let me know these things.” Lucifer came over and brushed a tender thumb over his husband’s cheek. “I want to know when this happens.”

“I know, but. . .” 

“I know, baby.” Lucifer brushed his lips against Sam’s forehead. “I’ll give you the band-aid until we can get you the proper medicine.” 

Sam smiled softly. “Okay.” 

“Meaning,” Lucifer hummed, drawing away, “that you’re in trouble tonight, Dr. Winchester.” 

Sam chuckled. “Oh?” 

“Mhm. For cleaning the Inn’s kitchen improperly and for not telling me about the itch,” Lucifer declared. “You know the rules, into the bedroom with you.” 

“Aye aye, Sir!” Sam winked before sauntering into their bedroom, stripping as he went. 

By the time Lucifer had closed the bedroom door, Sam was on his hands and knees, naked ass in the air. Lucifer couldn’t help but give a chuckle at the large black plug nestled between the doctor’s taut ass cheeks.  

“Mmm, that’s a sight I wish I saw more often,” he teased as he walked over, shedding his shirt. Running his hand over the firm flesh, he smirked as he saw the shudder ripple through his husband’s body. “How bad is it, Sam?” 

“Fairly bad,” his lover confessed, shuddering. 

Lucifer tsked, reprimanding his lover as his hands sought out the leather covered paddle that he liked to use for these occasions. “Twenty smacks ought to do it, right?” 

“Yes,” Sam breathed. 

That was the permission Lucifer was seeking, and he brought it down hard onto Sam’s rear. 

Sam gave a cry and dropped his head to rest on his forearms, giving another sharp cry as Lucifer landed another blow on his ass. 

“Mmm, needed it badly from the sounds my little slut is making,” Lucifer purred as he smacked each cheek twice in quick succession. Sam whined and gasped, his cock hardening even further. “That’s right, you’re a little slut. A slut for my cock, and a slut for blood.” 

Sam nodded his agreement, moaning into the silk sheets. 

“That’s it, moan like the whore you are. Cry out for me like a bitch in heat,” Lucifer commanded as he landed two slightly softer blows, watching the skin turn from white to pink to red. “‘Cause you’re my little bitch, aren’t you Sam?” 

“Uh huh,” Sam whimpered, thrusting his hips back. 

“You don’t even try to deny it, you little whore,” Lucifer smirked, the next four blows much harder than he had started out with. 

Sam did as he was told, crying out, both Lucifer’s name and pleas for more,  _ harder _ , on the doctor’s  tongue as the final blows were landed on his hot, stinging rear. “Luce, need more, need please,” he whined.

“I know, my slutty little King,” Lucifer purred, kissing the small of his back as he ran a soothing hand over Sam’s burning ass. Reaching in between the mounds of flesh, he slowly and gently pulled out the plug. “Just wait until I get into your greedy hole, and then I’ll give you what you need.” 

“Luci,” Sam whimpered. “Luci, need it now, please.” 

Lucifer stepped back to shuck his shorts and admire his husband’s trembling form before slicking up his cock and sliding deep into him, rocking his hips hard and fast into Sam to get him whining and keening. Still thrusting, he reached over to his nightstand and found his pocket knife, shiny and sterilized as it always was. Flicking it open, he made a lateral incision across his right wrist. Blood seeped out and he hurriedly pressed the bleeding appendage to his husband’s lips. “There you go, baby, here’s what you need,” he whispered softly.    
Sam whined and hungrily latched onto the wrist, licking and whimpering in need and satisfaction.    
“Shh, that’s it, I got you,” Lucifer whispered in Sam’s ear. “I got you, baby, I’m taking care of you.” His hips started rocking slower inside him as the Marine rubbed soothing circles into the doctor’s hip. “Never gonna let my King go without what he needs.” 

Sam whined and lapped at Lucifer’s wrist, letting the blood flow into his mouth and down his chin, ruby liquid staining his skin as he drank it down eagerly, his hips rocking back on their own accord. 

Lucifer placed a series of gentle kisses across Sam’s shoulder, his hips coming to a full stop. “Hungry little blood sucker tonight, aren’t you?” he teased lightly. “That’s okay, baby, I know it’s been a while. You drink your fill and we’ll get you the real thing soon, alright?” 

Sam fisted the bed sheets as his hips bucked furiously back into Lucifer’s, sucking noisily. They both knew that come morning, Lucifer’s inner wrist would be black and blue and purple from the sucking and light biting that Sam was inflicting on it. 

“I’m sorry you’re suffering, my King, I hope I’m making it better.” Lucifer adjusted his wrist and Sam whined. “Shh, shh, baby, I got you, don’t worry, I’m not taking it away from you, that’d be cruel.” 

Sam was reaching his peak and so was Lucifer, the sheer contrast of the rough sex and the tender words from Lucifer doing him in. The younger man came untouched, biting down on his husband’s wrist. Lucifer gasped and came, painting his husband’s insides white. 

They both collapsed on the black linen, Sam still sucking noisily but getting lazier. Lucifer gently pulled out and replaced his cock with the plug one handed, before curling up around Sam and hugging him close. 

It was another five minutes before Sam pulled away, lips shiny with blood and spit, and he reached over to grab the mini first aid kit to patch up his husband. They remained quiet until Sam had disinfected and bandaged the cut and replaced himself in Lucifer’s arms, head over his heart, and they had gotten comfortable, Lucifer stroking his husband’s long chestnut locks. 

“Thank you,” Sam whispered quietly. 

“You’re welcome, baby,” Lucifer murmured, kissing the top of his head. “I know how you get and I don’t like seeing you suffer like this.” 

Sam nodded and he nestled his face into Lucifer’s chest. “I’m just glad you don’t get creeped out by it.” 

“Now why would I do that?” Lucifer teased softly, brushing his hair out of his husband’s face. “I’ll always give my King what he needs.” 

Sam nodded and yawned tiredly. 

“Get some sleep,” Lucifer said softly, drawing the blankets up and around them. “I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

Sam nodded. “Love you.” He mumbled as he slowly closed his eyes.

“How much?” 

“Enough to murder for you.” The phrase came out slurred and quiet.

“I’d murder  _ with  _ you,” Lucifer whispered but Sam had already fallen asleep, calm and comforted in his husband's arms. Lucifer gave a soft smile, brushed his lips against Sam’s forehead, and closed his eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New victim staying at a la Winchester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Torture scene. Skip if Squicks.

“Sam? Could you grab me a beer?” Lucifer called sweetly, his voice a startling contrast the hatred in his eyes, aimed at the man cuffed to the St. Andrew’s cross in the middle of the room. 

“Of course, Luci,” Sam said from his spot in the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of beer for his husband and sauntered into the middle of the living room, where the former Marine stood with clenched fists. “Here you go, baby.” 

“Thank you, love,” Lucifer’s demeanour softened slightly, sharing a sweet kiss with the man he loved while Sam snapped open the beer with a flick of his hand. 

“Of course, sweetheart,” Sam smiled. 

The man on the cross coughed and spat out a tooth. “Fuckin’ faggots. You ain’t real men. Real men don’t fuck other men.” 

Fury lit up in Sam’s eyes and he turned to look at his husband with a gleam in his eye. “Lucifer, darling,” he drawled. “Can you bring me the bowl that’s in the kitchen over by the sink?” 

Lucifer smiled. “Of course, baby,” he purred. “The Toolbox is open, by the way.” 

Sam gave a minute nod and looked into the top drawer of the Toolbox, admiring the tools as his husband limped into the kitchen. “Use your cane, babe!” he called over his shoulder as he lifted up a serrated knife. Smirking slightly at the angry man, he took the bowl from his husband. “Go rest. Seven cuts?” 

“Oh, dear, you know he deserves more,” Lucifer laughed as he kissed Sam’s cheek. “Personally, I’d like to see what this supposed ‘real man’ has.” 

Sam chuckled and returned the kiss. “Me too.” He set the bowl and knife down on top of the Toolbox and picked up a pair of sharp scissors. “Now go sit, baby, I know you’re hurting.” 

The Marine smiled and sat down in the blood red armchair. Crossing his legs, he observed what was going on. He sipped his beer. 

Sam approached the struggling man and began cutting away his clothes. “Woodstove later, Luce,” he said casually as he cut off the man’s dark shirt, already torn and tattered, and his slacks. Removing the belt from the pants, he tossed it over to his husband. “Donation or keep?” 

Lucifer folded the belt and snapped it thoughtfully. “Keep. It’ll be a nice change from when I use a paddle on that delightful ass.” 

“Get away from me, you fucking  _ freak! _ ” the man cried out, now visibly terrified of the taller man. 

“Is that the best you can do?” Sam mocked, cutting the slacks off his victim and shaking his head. “He’s all talk, Luci.” 

“Of course he is,” Lucifer said blithely. “How much talk?” 

“Compared to you or to me?” Sam joked. “‘Cause compared to me, he’s at least six talks worth.” 

Lucifer whistled. “So, four?” 

Sam nodded before cutting away the white briefs that their visitor was wearing, stepping back to admire. “Yep. Typical homophobe. All bark and no bite.” 

“Yeah. . . well, bet you’re not much to talk about either!” The man stammered. 

Sam raised a brow. With a practiced movement, he shoved his sweatpants down low enough to expose his rear and dick,  fully hard and a lot larger than the man in front of him. Giving himself a lazy stroke, he stared at the man. “I think I’m plenty to talk about,” he said softly. “So want to try that again?” 

The man’s eyes had widened and he was now openly ogling the length in the doctor’s slowly stroking hand. 

“Oh, so you’re one of  _ those, _ ” Sam hummed thoughtfully, yelping slightly as something struck his ass softly, enough to give it a sting. He turned to give his husband a look. 

Lucifer shrugged and coiled the unfurled belt back up. “I was just testing,” he said casually.

The doctor chuckled and returned to staring at the bound man in front of him. “As I was saying, you’re one of  _ those,  _ aren’t you? You’re one of those men who claim that homosexuals are inherently evil and we’re going to Hell, but enjoy it no matter what.” 

Lucifer snickered. “Aaaahhh the homophobic homosexual.” 

“You don’t understand! If I come out, I lose everything! Wife, children, my job!” 

Sam slid himself back into his sweatpants and made his way up to the man’s ear. “I got kicked out of my house when I was sixteen because my father caught me kissing a boy from my school,” he whispered softly. “Not to mention I got beat to within an inch of my life. Thank God for my brother and my now husband’s family- they took me in when I needed it and made sure I graduated high school, get into a good college, supported in medical school.” 

The man’s eyes grew as wide as saucers. “W-w-was it your husband you were kissing?” he asked. 

Sam smiled and shook his head. “Unfortunately, my husband was already serving in our nation’s military when that happened. My husband’s a war hero.”

The man swallowed and the doctor backed away, starting to coat the knife with the stuff in the bowl. 

“What’s in there, my King?” Lucifer inquired as he he watched curiously. 

“Some water, some bleach, some salt,” Sam said idly. “Two parts water, one half part bleach, one and a half parts salt.” 

“Sea or kosher?”

“Sea salt. Hurts more.” Sam glanced over at their victim, eyes glinting, pupils wide and black, to make sure the man was taking in what he was saying. It was a performance for his benefit, after all. His victims’ terror always made what came next so much sweeter for the good doctor. 

The knife now covered, he made his way over to their victim and gave an almost sad, sadistic smile. “Ready?” 

“Ready for-” the man trailed off into a loud scream as Sam sliced hard into the meat of the victim’s left shoulder, his smile turning into a smirk. 

“One,” Sam counted casually before making a slash across the collarbone, then across the right shoulder. 

Lucifer leaned back in his seat and watched with a warm smile as Sam marked up their latest chew toy. He looked at the time. “Sam, darling,” he hummed. “Time to stop for the night.” 

“Of course,” Sam purred, looking at the thirty-two marks he had just made. “Tomorrow, the finale?” 

“Of course,” Lucifer replied blithely before offering his arm to his husband. “Now, to bed with us.” 

“To bed or  _ to bed _ ?” The doctor asked as he dropped the knife and looked at the Marine, covered in blood. 

“Mmm, to the shower first. Unless. . .?” Lucifer trailed off, leaving going into the bedroom with the freezer idea go unspoken.

“Shower.” Sam’s eyes glittered. “Want you to test that belt on me.” He winked and slinked off. 

“You naughty little boy.” With that, Lucifer followed his husband to the shower, leaving their victim naked, shivering, his blood dripping into the steadily growing pool beneath the cross.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam goes to take care of Dean. It backfires.

Sam sighed as he entered the shoddy house he’d grown up in, casting his eyes around the filthy living room. Beer cans and whiskey bottles littered the floor. A small TV was playing “Dr. Sexy, MD” with the sound muted. 

“Dean?” he called out as he set down the brown paper bag of groceries. On the small coffee table, Dean’s phone lit up, giving him the notification of Sam’s two unread text messages. Through the notification screen, Sam could make out his phone background- Castiel’s senior prom, the two of them dressed up in tuxedos. Castiel’s normal “sex hair” having been mostly tamed for the event and wearing a tie that perfectly matched his stunning blue eyes and a small, shy smile. Dean, however, had spiked the front part of his hair and was wearing a tie that also matched his Rapunzel green eyes and a giant smile on his face as he held Castiel flush against him. That picture had been Dean’s phone background for seventeen years, and Sam knew it’d never change. 

The screen went dark for a moment, then lit up with Dean’s lock screen, another picture of Castiel, this time sprawled out on their father’s old couch, reading  _ Nicholas Nickleby  _ and running a hand through his hair, glasses falling off the edge of his nose. Sam recognized it from about a week before Castiel had run. 

“Dean?” he called again. 

He found Dean, passed out and sprawled on his tiny bed, snoring up a storm, looking like he hadn’t showered in a week and and hadn’t changed clothes in even longer. In fact, it looked and smelled like the last time Dean showered, it was with his clothes on. 

Sam sighed and pulled out his phone, slightly cheered by the sight of his lock screen picture of Lucifer in his full dress blues, which he had worn for their wedding, and pulled up his music app to blare Led Zeppelin loudly, the phone right up against Dean’s ear.

Dean snorted himself awake and gave a bleary look to Sam. “Oh. It’s you,” he grumbled. 

“Yeah, it’s me, Dean you’re  _ filthy. _ ” Sam’s doctor instincts kicked in. “When did you last eat?” 

“‘Bout. . . well, what day is it?” 

Sam took a deep breath and blew it out explosively. “Right. It’s Wednesday, Dean.” 

“Oh. Then I last ate on Sunday. I think.” 

“Right. When did you last  _ bathe? _ ” 

“Uhhh. . . Today’s Thursday, right?” 

“Wednesday, Dean.” 

“Ummm.” 

“I’m going to take that as you don’t remember, meaning you drank yourself into a stupor the moment I left.” Sam’s voice took on a more disapproving tone. “For fuck’s sake, Dean.” 

“Well you’re not the one with a missing boy!” Dean shouted with a whine. 

“Dean. We’re not playing this game.” Sam moved over and began hauling his older brother out of bed. “Now c’mon. Let’s get you in the shower and sobered up.” 

“No!” 

“Dean, I’m  _ so  _ not in the mood.” Sam’s voice was now exasperated. “Let’s go. Now.” 

Dean allowed himself to be pulled out of the bed, clothes shucked off of him, and deposited into the bathtub. He balked, however, when Sam approached him with a wet washcloth. 

“For fuck’s sake, Sammy, I ain’t a little kid!” 

“You know, for being four years older than me, you’re the biggest little kid I know,” Sam snapped as he began vigorously scrubbing Dean’s liquor and squalor covered body. “You can’t bathe yourself, you can’t feed yourself. I have to visit you twice a week so I can make sure you didn’t  _ die _ while maintaining a radio silence. Are you four, Dean?” 

“ _ You  _ deal with the love of your life running off on you and never leavin’ a forwardin’ address and then your little brother meeting his and gettin’ married ‘nd then Dad dyin’ and yer little brother thinkin’ that you’re a giant disappointment!” Dean pouted.

Sam closed his eyes. “Dean, we are  _ so  _ not getting into this,” He said firmly. “Yes, Cas ran off. It sucks, I know. Yes, I know it was probably very difficult for you to come to terms that your younger brother got on with his life and got his happily ever after when you didn’t. Yes, Dad dying was hard on the both of us. And I don’t think you’re a disappointment, Dean. I’m just sad that you’re following in Dad’s footsteps, with the fighting and the alcohol and all.” 

“Then bring Cas back!” 

“CAS IS DEAD!” Sam shouted. “Cas is probably dead or just doesn’t give a shit about you or something! If he could have come back, Dean, if he cared, he would be here doing this! He's not. I am. I'm the one who cares, but all you ever talk about is Cas. ” 

Dean fell silent as Sam finished bathing him roughly and he stomped out. 

“Fix your problems, Dean, because Cas ain’t here to do it and I’m sick and tired of doing it!” He shouted. “There’s groceries on the table, but this is it. I’m done.” 

Sam stormed all the way to his own house and collapsed on the couch, drained. 

“Sam?” Lucifer came in and sat down on the couch next to his husband. “What’s wrong? I thought today was a Dean day?” 

“I’m fed up with his whining,” Sam sighed. “He started asking questions and whining and demanded that I go find Cas, and I snapped.” 

Lucifer sighed and made a sympathetic noise before pulling his husband into his lap. “What’d you tell him?” 

“That Cas is dead, or doesn’t care. I then told him to fix his problems because I wasn’t going to do it anymore and that Cas wasn’t there to do it.” Sam sighed and buried his face into Lucifer’s neck. “I . . . I just snapped. I’m so tired of hiding the  _ real  _ reason I’m drifting apart from him and all of that.” 

“I know, baby,” Lucifer murmured, kissing the side of Sam’s head as he rocked him. “And I know that you feel cheated and hurt by something that should’ve happened. But John’s dead now, Sam, and he can’t hurt you or Dean anymore.” 

“But  _ I  _ should’ve done it,” Sam whispered. “I should’ve been the one to cut his dick off and shove it into his mouth to use as a gag. I should’ve been the one to kill him. Not some random asshat who got a lucky shot in the middle of a bar fight.“ 

“I know, honey,” Lucifer whispered, rubbing Sam’s back. “I know, and I’m sorry for you. I wish there was something I could do.”    
Sam nodded and clung to Lucifer. “Just hold me,” he whispered. “I need to be held. I feel so guilty but I dunno. . . Dean needed to hear it.” 

“I know,” Lucifer soothed, stroking his husband’s long hair. “Just don’t talk anymore. I got you.” 

Sam turned his face so he could look at the Marine. “Would. . . would you sing to me?” 

Lucifer beamed and kissed his doctor’s forehead. “Of course.” Clearing his throat, the Marine pressed a gentle kiss to Sam’s cheek before he started to sing. “ _ There’s a lady who swears. . . all that glitters is gold. . . and she’s buying a stairway to heaven. . . “ _


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murder and Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a murder, blood play, and sex in this. Skip if squick.

Lucifer watched his husband stand in front of the man strung up on the St. Andrew’s cross. Both the victim and Sam were drenched in blood, the dark red color soaking through Sam’s acid washed jeans and staining his torso. The doctor held a scalpel in his hand, the same instrument dripping blood as they admired the slashes up and down the man’s torso. 

The man himself looked tired, but he was holding up admirably, shouting wordlessly at them- Sam had less patience than usual and had cut off his tongue and pulled a few teeth to hamper his ability to talk. 

“You think he’s ready, Sam?” Lucifer asked, palming himself through his own jeans. 

“Yeah. I think he is.” Sam’s voice was hoarse and aroused, gripping the scalpel tight in his hand. 

_ Drip. Drip. Drip.  _

Noises that vaguely sounded like a wounded Wookiee echoed throughout the otherwise silent house. 

“Sam?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Do you want something other than that?” Lucifer’s voice was gentle, so as not to startle his hotwired husband. 

Sam slowly turned and looked at Lucifer. “Get me the gun.” 

Lucifer smiled. “On it’s way, honey.” He made his way over to a safe tucked in the corner of the living room of the Inn. Opening the code box, he tapped the security code in and it opened with a click. He opened the door of the safe and grabbed out a very specific gun. 

It was a .50 caliber Desert Eagle, a wedding gift from Lucifer’s now deceased father, and the only gun they use when they get their hands dirty. 

“How do you want to do it?” Lucifer asked, slowly getting up and handing him the weapon. 

Sam grinned. It was the grin that Lucifer liked to refer to when he was “soulless” and in the process of the murder. 

“Oh I got something  _ special  _ planned for him.” 

Lucifer raised his brow, but didn’t question. He learned over the past few years not to ask what his husband deemed as “stupid” questions in the process of murdering someone. 

“You just sit back and watch, baby,” Sam purred. “And let me handle the scum.”

“Of course, honey.” Lucifer hummed in reply, kissing his cheek and sitting down to watch. 

Sam hefted the gun in his right hand and grabbed the base of their victim’s dick. “Good thing you’re flaccid,” he purred. “Or else this would be harder to do.” 

The other man whimpered and squirmed as Sam roughly jabbed the end of the cock into the barrel of the gun. “Any last words?” He whispered soothingly. 

The sounds that came out of his mouth sounded like “Go to Hell.” 

“Yes. I will. But not before you.” Sam pulled the trigger. 

The gunshot echoed loudly in the house, none of the sound traveling outside of the Inn. 

Blood spurted out as the man screamed, his penis exploding from the force of the bullet.

“Messy,” Lucifer observed as he stood up and walked over to his lover. “And slow. But beautiful as always, my love.” 

Sam turned, the other man’s blood splattered all over his front. He smiled. “Yeah?” 

“Yes.” Lucifer tugged Sam closer, fingers smearing the blood all over his torso. 

“Make love to me, then.” 

“Right now?” Lucifer’s voice was amused. “Dirty little boy.” 

“Mmm, but I’m  _ your  _ dirty little boy. Now, come on, fuck me. Gentle and slow.” 

“Demanding tonight, are we?” Lucifer teased, taking the gun out of Sam’s hands and placing it on the table. 

“You know how I am after a kill,” Sam whispered quietly before he attacked Lucifer’s lips. 

Lucifer groaned into the kiss, drawing his husband’s lower lip into his mouth as he began to take of Sam’s bloodied jeans. Sam did the same to Lucifer, coloring his lover’s sharp hipbones with the copper scented blood as he pushed his jeans off of him. 

“How do you want me, angel?” Sam whispered as their throbbing members touched, throwing his head back in a moan. 

“I want you to ride me, baby, ride me.” 

Gently, they fell to the floor, in the pool of blood from their victim. He was close to death by now, they could hear the death rattle as Lucifer laid back into the blood, the red staining his light blond hair. Sam immediately crawled on top of Lucifer, sinking down slowly and easily, using a bloodied hand to guide him down. 

“Fuck, baby, I love it when you do that,” Lucifer breathed. 

“Yeah?” Sam’s voice was breathless as Lucifer bottomed out inside of him, circling his hips. He looked down at his husband and partner in crime. Lucifer looked positively  _ angelic  _ like this, lightly tanned skin and soft blond hair being surrounded and consumed by the thick red color of blood, drenching his hands holding onto his hips easily to keep him steady, even as Sam began slowly rising up and sinking down onto his cock. Ice blue eyes encouraged him to lose control, to  _ take,  _ but Sam had just taken a life, and now, he wanted soft and gentle to a point, gasping as Lucifer’s nails drove tiny marks into his skin. 

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Lucifer whispered. “My beautiful, murderous Adonis.” 

Sam gave a soft chuckle and leaned over his husband to kiss him deeply, both of them moaning and panting as their hips pistoned faster. Touches were still light and reverent, but the pace had picked up, and soon, Lucifer’s hand migrated from hip to cock, stroking his doctor to completion. 

“Cum for me, baby, come on,” Lucifer whispered against his lips, nipping it at the end of his command. “Mark me as yours.” 

That’s what made Sam lose it, crying out in pleasure as he spilled his salty release onto Lucifer’s blood stained torso. The Marine didn’t last much longer, crying out as he came deep inside his husband. 

They laid there for several long minutes, kissing each other lazily and sharing secret smiles before Lucifer sighed. “Let’s get to dismemberment, alright? Before rigor mortis sets in too much.” 

Sam chuckled. “Love you.” 

“How much?” 

“I’d murder for you.” 

“My King, I’d murder  _ with  _ you.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sex with retellings of killings past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recountation of murders. Skip if squick.

Lucifer woke up with a cock hard enough to cut a diamond. He peeked at his watch. Six AM. An hour before he and Sam normally woke up. 

He gazed upon his husband now. Between everything that was happening, Sam needed his sleep, and he was doing exactly that. He had fallen asleep before Lucifer, after a rough day at the clinic and Dean being. . . well, Dean. Sighing, he tugged his sleeping lover closer to him and pressed a gentle kiss to his shoulder. 

Sam stirred and backed up into the warmth, mostly asleep. 

Lucifer smiled and kissed the back of Sam’s neck, his doctor’s favorite way to wake up. “Mmm, morning,” he purred. 

“Nnngh,” Sam moaned. “Time?” 

“Roughly oh six hundred,” Lucifer reported. 

“You’re horny.” his husband’s very obvious observation was said with a soft chuckle. 

“Mmm, well I had a delicious dream last night,” the Marine purred, rolling his hips lightly. “Want to hear it?” 

“Yes,” Sam sighed lazily. 

“It was our first kill, baby. God I wish we had thought to get video,” Lucifer breathed into Sam’s ear. His husband’s breath hitched. “You were beautiful, baby. That homophobic vet basher didn’t know what hit him. You punched and kicked him down into the dirt of the salvage yard. You got him all black and bloody.” 

Sam moaned softly. “I kept watching you sharpen that hubcap you got off of that 69 Mustang,” he whispered. “Hearing your K-Bar slide across the metal of the hubcap, the dark look in your eyes. Fuck you looked so hungry, so predatory. You were going to kill.” 

“But I let you do it,” Lucifer murmured. “I handed that hubcap to you and watch you slice his throat clean open. You nearly decapitated the bastard.” 

“Fuck it felt so good, feeling the spray of blood land on me and watching him gurgle to death,” Sam groaned, rocking his hips back up and into Lucifer’s. “How far did we carry that body?” 

“To the top of that hill, furthest car back. Where no one goes because they’re all lazy sons of bitches,” Lucifer moaned, wrapping his fingers around Sam’s hips to grind against him properly. “Dumped that body in the trunk. You looked so happy, and so enthused, and absolutely and utterly  _ hot.  _ I couldn’t believe how hot you were, all covered in blood.” 

The doctor moaned and tilted his head back to rest on Lucifer’s shoulder. “We barely made it fifty yards,” he whispered, “and all of a sudden you bent me over the hood of a 99 Town and Country. I wondered what the hell was going on but then you were reaching around me and undoing my belt.” 

“I couldn’t help myself, and you were purring like a cat in heat and begging me for it,” Lucifer chuckled. “You were wearing the black plug I had gotten you when we got engaged. I remember because I fucked you open with it when I gave it to you.” 

Sam shuddered and arched his back into Lucifer’s wanton touch. “Fuck, yes, and you fucked me open with it then too. Got me screaming.” 

“Yes, I did,” Lucifer whispered, lifting up his husband’s leg to open him for his cock. “You were screaming so loud, I thought the cops were going to get called. I couldn’t wait to fuck you, just bent over the hood of that van, covered in blood and making sinful noises.” 

“We barely lasted,” Sam chuckled, out of breath. He gasped as he felt his lover slowly enter him, curling his leg back to hook around Lucifer’s hip. “Fuck, that was the shortest amount of time it took for us  _ ever. _ ” 

“It was,” Lucifer agreed, groaning as he restrained himself from slamming into his husband, to drag it out. This was morning sex, after all, and Sam had ridden Lucifer very hard the night before. “But we didn’t care. We fucked again when we got home.” 

“First shower up in the Inn,” Sam whined as Lucifer bottomed out in him finally. 

“Yes it was, and I got you clean before taking you to our bedroom up there, tying you down, and paddling your ass.” Lucifer rested his head on Sam’s spine, breathing heavily. 

Sam squeezed experimentally, making his Marine groan. “Fuck, yes, you did. And then you fucked me into the mattress, quite literally. How many times did we fuck that night?” 

“You came four times before you completely passed out,” Lucifer groaned, slowly rolling his hips. “And you had my cock inside you that whole night, keeping it warm for me.” 

Sam whined at the memory, his hole clenching around his husband’s length. “Yes, I did,” he hissed out. “Oh fuck, that felt so good the next morning when I woke up to my ass in the air and you pounding into me.” 

“I bet it did,” Lucifer chuckled. His hands tightened their grip on Sam’s hips. “Know where the lube is?” 

“Yes.” 

“Find it.” 

Sam reached underneath of his pillow and grabbed a tube. He poured some on his fingers and warmed it up. 

“Play with your nipples for me, baby,” Lucifer whispered. “Play with them, and tell me what you’re thinking of.” 

Sam whimpered and did as he was told, gasping and getting lost in his own touch as the lube covered fingers slid over him slowly, gently, keeping in time with his husband’s thrusts. Soon, his nipples were hard and red, but they didn’t hurt. He had almost forgot the next part of his order when he remembered. 

“Luc” 

“I’m here, baby, what are you thinking of?” Lucifer hummed. 

Sam groaned as he gently pinched his nipples with his fingers. “First exsanguination kill,” he moaned. 

“Mmmm I remember that. Completely drained the bastard of blood, didn’t you?” Lucifer chuckled as he gently kissed Sam’s cheek. 

“Yes,” Sam breathed. “Filled up the tub and dumped that corpse out so I could get in. Got down on my knees and asked for you to come to me. Remember what I did then?” 

Lucifer shivered and rocked his hips a bit more firmly into Sam. “Yeah, fuck yeah. I got right up to you and you swallowed me down. Grabbed my hips while your hands were covered in blood. You got drenched in the blood, remember that?” 

Sam whined and nodded. “Oh yes. I sucked you off and then told you to sit back and enjoy the show while I fucked myself on that dildo. The one we had made to mimic your dick.” 

“Oh you were beautiful. I do have video of that, somewhere. You completely denied yourself of my touch, bringing you to the edge, making you writhe and keen and beg for it, covered in blood from your neck down. You were rubbing your nipples like you’re doing right now, except that wasn’t lube you were using, it was blood, and you were rougher, so much rougher.” The Marine breathed into Sam’s ear, nipping his jaw as he fucked into his husband, slow and deep, the head of his penis gliding smoothly over the doctor’s prostate, making him weep from the stimulation. 

“Yes, I was, and all it took for me to cum was you gently swiping your thumb over the tip, digging your nail in slightly.” Sam whimpered. “Luc. . . Luc, I’m close. . . .”

“I know you are, baby,” Lucifer soothed, reaching around and beginning to mimic the touches that got Sam to release that night, stroking the long length of his cock and digging his thumbnail into the slit. “That’s it, cum for me,” he coaxed. 

Sam came with a shout and a moan, spilling into Lucifer’s hand as he pulled on his nipples. 

It didn’t take much longer for the Marine to spill over, maybe three more thrusts into his husband’s tight heat before groaning and cumming deep inside of the other man. 

They laid there in silence for a few minutes, breathing heavily as Lucifer’s now tender hands ran up and down Sam’s sides to soothe his husband. 

Slowly, Lucifer pulled out and gathered his husband in his arms, kissing his forehead. “Mmm, how’re you feeling?” he hummed. 

“So good,” Sam murmured. “What time do I gotta go in today?” 

“It’s Thursday, so not until ten,” Lucifer hummed. “And it’s six thirty.” 

“I’m going back to sleep,” the doctor slurred. 

Lucifer smiled and curled back up with his husband. “Sounds like a plan.” 

“Love you.” 

“How much?” 

“Murder for you.” 

Sam fell asleep to Lucifer saying his response. “Baby, I’d murder  _ with  _ you.” 

The Marine watched his husband sleep for a few minutes, making sure that he was sleeping easy before kissing his shoulder lightly. “I love you too,” he whispered softly before falling asleep again.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Homophobes learn not to mess with Dr. and Colonel Winchester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Homophobic talk, vet bashing. Skip if squick.

A pleasant stroll in the park one Sunday is where Sam and Lucifer found themselves, holding hands and chatting idly. 

They parked themselves on a park bench when Lucifer began mumbling about his hip and limping more than usual. Sam nestled himself into Lucifer’s arms and cuddled him, rubbing massaging circles into the older man’s hip. 

Two people not from town were jogging and they stopped near the bench the couple was sitting at. They went straight for the jugular. “Hey, faggots, get out of here, nobody wants to see that,” one said. 

“No one wants to know you take it up the ass,” the other said, stretching.

Lucifer cracked his neck and looked over at the two men jogging. “Gentlemen, I would advise you to ignore us and keep on jogging,” he said calmly. “My husband has a hair trigger temper and as my hip is out of commission for the time being- hence, him massaging it- I would not be able to stop him as thoroughly as I would like.” 

“What, you get shot or something?” one of them asked. 

“Yes, I did, actually, during my last double tour of Iraq,” Lucifer said with a small smile. “Marine vet.”

“So, let me ask you a question, Jarhead,” the first one began, and Lucifer raised an elegant brow at the use of the term, “Did you figure out you were a rump ranger from raping all those women while you waved a gun around and called yourself a member of the US military?”

Sam growled, tensing.  

“Sam, let me take care of this,” Lucifer soothed, running his fingers through his hair. He returned his gaze to the men in front of him. “I knew I was gay prior to enlisting,” he said smoothly. “Women, while aesthetically pleasing, are not what I desire sexually. And as of six and a half years ago, the only person I’ve desired is my husband. Not to mention that I did  _ not  _ rape anyone while I was in the service. Out of four double tours, I’ve only known of one rapist. He was not in my company, he raped a female Marine, and he was court-martialed, dishonorably discharged, and is now serving a twenty year sentence in Fort Leavenworth.” Underneath his calm and matter-of-fact demeanor, anger simmered at the  _ insinuation  _ that he was a rapist and was able to get away with it because of the fact that he was in the military. 

“Likely story. Jarheads are like cops, they protect their own, dirty or not,” the other man snorted. 

Sam slowly sat up and stared both of them down. “Leave, you will upset my husband,” he snarled. “And as not only his  _ husband,  _ but his  _ physician,  _ I don’t need that to happen. I don’t  _ want  _ for that to happen, as I know for a fact that his anti-anxiety medicine is at home.” 

“Awww, look at the little bulldog the big, bad Marine got for himself,” they cooed sarcastically. 

Lucifer was off the bench in a flash, wooden cane resting against the closest man’s Adam’s apple lengthwise as he was behind the other man. The cane just barely pressed into his throat. “I could easily kill you right now, where you stand,” he said softly. “For insulting me, for insulting my husband, and for insulting the banner I stood under. But I won’t. Because I have  _ honor  _ and dignity. Besides, I’ve heard conjugal visits are  _ dreadful  _ and the only person I trust with my medical care is my husband.” 

The men whimpered. Lucifer released the man he had and watched him with a cool, uninterested gaze as he fell to his knees and coughed. 

“Beat it,” Lucifer snapped. 

They  _ ran.  _

Lucifer watched them run before limping over to his husband and giving a small smile. “Shall we kill two birds with one stone?” he asked casually. 

“Yes. Want me to do the stone throwing?” Sam asked, checking his husband over. 

The former Marine smirked. “Yes. Let me know when you three are home. I’ll set the extra place settings.”

Sam smiled. 

 

Lucifer heard muffled cursing and banging around at about eleven PM. Pausing his movie, he grabbed his 9 mil and his cane and slowly limped to the door of his house, peering out the little glass hole. 

“Trick or treat,” Sam grunted as Lucifer tapped his cane against the door. 

Lucifer unlocked and opened the door, only to have to leap out of the way as Sam and the two men who were taunting them earlier fell to the ground. 

“You’re late for supper,” Lucifer commented idly. 

“Apologies,” Sam said, standing up to kiss his husband’s cheek. “I knocked them out with an anesthetic. They’ll be waking up in two hours, I think.” 

“That gives us time to get them nice and situated in the Inn,” Lucifer smiled, kissing his doctor’s cheek. “They didn’t give you too much trouble, I hope?” 

Sam shook his head. “Two punches that I blocked.”

Lucifer smiled. “Perfect. Now let’s get the three of you inside, our guests situated, and then let me feed you. I know you don’t eat when you’re on a hunt.” 

“I am  _ starving, _ ” Sam admitted as he heaved one man over his shoulder. “How’s the hip?” 

Lucifer made a disgusted face. “Is it time for a cortisone shot?” he asked. 

“I’ll check my patient notes,” Sam promised as he beckoned for the key to the Inn. 

Lucifer slipped it off of his neck and handed it to his husband.

“Thank you, babe.” Sam kissed him sweetly. “Love you.” 

“How much?” 

“Enough to murder for you.” 

“Baby, I’d murder with you.”

They smiled and Sam made his way to the stairs leading up to the Inn and Lucifer hobbled back to his armchair, his hawk eyed gaze on the bound and blind man lying as though dead on his floor.

“This is why you don’t insult people, my good man,” he said softly. 

In the background of his mind, an Afghani war cry echoed as well as his orders to surge forward and engage in combat. Gunfire sounded as sharp as Sam’s voice when he cries out in pleasure underneath of him and he grimaced. 

Sam came back down a few minutes later and looked at his husband before sighing. “What have I told you about not taking your antipsychotic?” he asked patiently, walking quickly over to the cupboard where they kept Lucifer’s medications.

Lucifer stayed silent. 

“I know, baby,” Sam soothed, grabbing the prescription he needed and a bottle of water. “You’ll be needing to see Dr. Barnes, when is that appointment?” 

“I go see Pam on Friday, hopefully the bodies will be out of here by then,” Lucifer mumbled, accepting the water and pills from his husband and knocking them back. “Go put the other one up, so I can make sure you eat and take my sleeping pills before bed.” 

“Excellent plan.” Sam kissed his Marine’s forehead and walked off to do exactly that. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Police come by to check out a noise complaint. Lucifer gets wound up.

**_Police Report Done by Deputy Sheriff Benjamin Lafitte_ **

_ At 13:47 I was dispatched to 457 Willow Lane, to visit Dr. Samuel Winchester (5-2-1982) and Colonel Lucifer Winchester (6-21-1978) , regarding a noise complaint registered by Metatron Armstrong (4-2-1979). Mr. Armstrong complained of a loud noise coming from their property at around 3:05 earlier that day.  _

_ Upon investigating and talking with Dr. Winchester, the following conclusions can be made:  _

_ -Dr. Winchester admitted to making noise on his property- his woodchipper _

_ -Dr. Winchester said that he had been chipping some old firewood that wouldn’t be needed for the upcoming fall and winter _

_ -Dr. Winchester apologized, but admitted that today was going to be a busy day for him and his husband, and he did not want to wait until day for the chipping. _

_ -Dr. Winchester tried to use the storm as cover, but failed as the storm did not even hit the area where his woodchipper is.  _

_ -Dr. Winchester apologized and said he’d follow noise ordinances from now on.  _

_ Further investigation upon this matter is not necessary.  _

 

“Sam?” Lucifer called into the laundry room. “Was someone other than you here today?”

“Yeah, Benny stopped by,” Sam admitted, coming up with a basket of clothes on his hip. 

“Why?” 

Sam grimaced. “Apparently, someone complained about noise coming from our property.” 

“There was  _ a storm. _ ” 

“That wasn’t anywhere near Hannibal,” Sam reminded him. “Remember? Ria Kapriva fucked up the weather report that night.” 

“What do you mean,  _ the storm wasn’t near Hannibal _ ? It was raining cats and dogs! There was  _ thunder _ .”

“Not by Hannibal, babe, for about a quarter mile it was the loudest thing.” 

“ _ Son of a bitch. _ ” 

“Don’t be taking your own mother’s name in vain.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“You’d certainly like to.” 

“Who the fuck  _ complained _ ?” 

“Metatron Armstrong. Said it interfered with his novel writing.”

“THE FUCKING TRANSFORMER COMPLAINED???”

“Luci, baby, please calm down.” 

“Interfered with his writing my ass.  _ Everything  _ can interfere with his writing. You could place him in a padded, sound proof room and put him in a straight jacket and he’d complain that the white doesn’t promote good brainwaves.”

“Yeah, well, it’s what he said. I just told Benny I wanted to get some wood chipped before the storm hit, and he agreed that trying to chip soggy wood is a nasty business, and said try to keep it to ‘normal’ hours.” Sam rolled his eyes and collapsed in his chair, starting to fold their clothes. 

“We should probably hold off on chipping. And maybe go down and see if the storm is actually  _ at  _ Hannibal before throwing more wood into it so it doesn’t disturb the apparent Lord of Writing. Arrogant douchebag.”

“Yes, dear, I know.”

“I’m a  _ much better  _ writer than him! I’ve  _ proofread  _ some of his work and it’s  _ filled  _ with continuity errors! You might as well be breaking the eighth wall with his writing!” Lucifer was  _ very  _ worked up. Metatron and Lucifer had disliked each other ever since they were in high school, and Lucifer’s writing always got published in the school newspapers and yearbooks and Metatron’s didn’t. Their English class rivalry was unparalleled even among the sports teams. 

“Luci, darling, I don’t think the eighth wall exists,” Sam chuckled, balling up matched socks and placing them neatly in the basket. 

“Are you  _ really  _ sure about that?” Lucifer’s voice was shrill. “Are you  _ positive  _ about that? Because if so, go tell Metatron!”

Sam sighed. He knew he should have never mentioned who made the noise complaint, but he doesn’t like keeping secrets from his husband. 

“Baby, relax, you know what you’re like when you get wound up. It’s not like Metatron’s turning us in for murder,” Sam said soothingly. 

“I  _ am  _ calm!” Lucifer exclaimed. 

Sam watched his husband pace, swear, and say some rather unwholesome things about Metatron before he had had enough. “Luci,  _ sit, _ ” he said, getting up and walking over to his husband, pushing him down onto the leather armchair that Lucifer loved to curl up in. “Stay.” 

“What are you doing, Sam?” Lucifer asked in an irritated tone. 

“Getting you to  _ relax. _ You’re so tense, baby,” Sam soothed, unbuttoning Lucifer’s jeans and sliding the zipper down. 

“Yeah, but-” 

“No buts. Except mine.” Sam winked as he pulled the pants down and off of his husband’s hips. 

Lucifer sighed and watched Sam with a bit of a snarl on his lips. “Sam, I wanna rant,” He grumbled. 

“You’ve been ranting for twenty minutes dear, and I don’t want your blood pressure to go up any higher. The only time it should be this high is when you’re balls deep inside of me and fucking me into the next year.” Sam drew out his cock and placed a kiss to the top of it. “Let me take care of you baby.” 

“Do you really think you sucking me off is going to help?” Lucifer asked a bit disdainfully. 

Sam chuckled, not taking offense to the way Lucifer asked the question. “Trust me, I’m a doctor,” he winked before slowly sliding his lips onto his husband’s length. 

Lucifer’s breath hitched as he watched Sam’s full lips slide over his cock like a sheath sliding home, chestnut curls falling around his husband’s face as he gently suckled. 

Sam smirked triumphantly as he allowed his throat to open and swallow around the head, making Lucifer cry out in pleasure and buck his hips, groin meeting Sam’s nose. 

Once Sam’s lips closed around the root of Lucifer’s dick, his throat swallowing rhythmically around it, he looked up at his husband with bright hazel eyes set in a doe like expression of innocence. 

“Fuck, Sam, you’re so good to me,” Lucifer breathed, stroking his hair back from his face, slowly calming down from raging about Metatron. “So good, and you’re such a good little cocksucker too.”

Moaning, Sam began bobbing his head, the praise that he wanted received. It was slow and leisurely, designed to draw things out, make his overwound Marine calm down from the raging that he was doing. 

It took a while, with a lot of bobbing and pauses to suckle and look up in innocence, but soon, Lucifer was knotting his hand into the doctor’s hair and he began thrusting into Sam’s mouth, grumbling filthy praises as he did so. Tears stung Sam’s eyes but he loved it, love the way that Lucifer felt calm enough to actually face fuck his husband, and it wasn’t long after that until Lucifer came down Sam’s throat. Sam coughed and sputtered, twin trails leading out of the corners of his mouth as he struggled to swallow it all. 

Once Sam had, however, he expected to be done, and he slowly drew away, tongue darting out to collect what he hadn’t been able to swallow. 

Lucifer leaned down, picked him up, and hauled him onto his lap. He stuck a hand inside of Sam’s scrubs- it was an ER day- pulled out his dick, and he began roughly jerking him off, decorating his neck with bruises that would soon form into one giant bruise. 

“Cum whenever, baby,” Lucifer whispered in his ear. 

Sam cried out in pleasure after he received the permission, staining the front of Lucifer’s shirt with his release as he trembled in his husband’s arms, the Marine’s hand coaxing every little bit of semen he had in him. 

They rested there in the chair for a while, Sam leaning forward and resting his head on Lucifer’s shoulder as they came down from Cloud Nine together. 

“Thank you, baby,” Lucifer murmured, kissing the side of Sam’s head tenderly. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay, angel,” Sam whispered with a smile. “I know how much he upsets you. I just didn’t want you to get too overwhelmed.”

Lucifer smiled and hugged Sam close. 

“I love you.” 

“How much?” 

“Enough to murder for you.” 

“Baby, I’d murder  _ with  _ you.” 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another murder and more sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very painful way to die here. Skip if squick.

Lucifer circled around Sam and their latest victim, observing them.

Sam was positively drenched in blood. He had gotten up rather close and personal with the victim as he carved Satanic symbols into the skin.

Lucifer figured it was his best work yet.

"No upside down crosses, Sammy," he cooed.

Sam's brow furrowed together. "Why not?" he asked his husband.

The former Marine  walked over behind Sam and placed his hands over his hips, smearing the blood into his skin. "Because," he breathed. "The upside down is St. Peter's Cross, and is actually the Christian symbol for humility." He glanced a harsh eye at the victim. "Do we really want something like  _ that _ to have such a pure symbol of devotion?"

"No," Sam agreed. "So. . . he's done."

Lucifer nodded. "Indeed."

The man had already lost a bit of blood and was writhing in his ties, dangling from the meathook in the ceiling.

"Luci? Do you want to do the honors?" Sam asked. "He did, after all, call you a rapist and a coward."

Lucifer smirked and nodded. "I would love to do it."

Sam smiled and turned in his husband's arms to kiss him deeply, covering him in blood. "How are you gonna do it?" He breathed excitedly.

"Hmmm," Lucifer hummed into the kiss, running his fingers through messy chestnut hair, stroking it back from Sam's face. "Where's the mercury thermometer?"

Sam raised a brow. "It's in the Toolbox."

"Bring it to me. And the five pound sledgehammer."

The victim whimpered.

"My brother used this threat on the first boy I brought home, the overprotective fucker," Lucifer said casually as Sam withdrew from his embrace to go fetch the things he wanted. "And since you're already hard. . . Oh and Sam? A syringe full of lube."

"You're granting him  _ that  _ courtesy?" Sam chuckled.

"Well, he's going to die painfully either way. Besides, it'll be easier for it to go in."

Sam nodded and went to go find the Astroglide and a clean needle.

"See, this is an old torture/killing method," Lucifer continued to inform the victim, almost sounding like a bored college lecturer. "Invented by the Russians, I do believe." He leaned in and stroked the victim's hard cock. How it was hard, Lucifer had no clue, although he had a few theories. "See, they'd get a man hard, but not allow him to cum."

"Please, don't," the man whimpered.

Sam appeared with the items his husband asked for.

Taking the syringe, Lucifer flicked the needle and slowly inserted it into the victim's urethra, eyes on his face. "I'm sure they skipped this part of the torture, but I'm feeling mighty generous and I know you're going to die anyways, so what difference does it make?"

The man's face was contorted into a mask of pleasure-pain, and Sam howled with laughter.

"A right little masochist on our hands, I see. I take it you've been sounded before," Lucifer murmured, slowly pushing the lube into the man's cock.

"Uh huh," the man whimpered. "Feels so good."

"Well, at least you're going to somewhat enjoy this," Lucifer commented, slowly withdrawing the needle once it was empty. "Sam, thermometer please."

Sam handed him the thermometer. "What's this going to do, Luci?" he asked eagerly.

"Well, Sam, you know how mercury isn't exactly the kindest substance to a man's body," Lucifer said. "Especially if it gets into the bloodstream. So. . ." He slowly inserted the thinnest part of the needle into the man's dick, smirking as the man began writhing in pleasure. Once it bottomed out, he stepped back. "Baby, the hammer? And go hold his hips still."

"With pleasure, angel," Sam purred, kissing his husband as the hammer transferred hands and the doctor removed himself to still the victim's hips from behind.

"Now, this can go one of two ways. It can kill him instantly, or he'll be pissing blood for the rest of his very short life." The former Marine hefted the sledgehammer in his hands, weighing it and calculating what kind of force and how much he needed.

The man whimpered. "Please. . ."

Lucifer slammed the hammer down on top of the mercury thermometer.

Glass shattered and flew everywhere; as did silvery mercury. Most of it, however, went into the man's dick, just like Lucifer said it would.

Sam gasped in arousal and shock as the man began crying and writhing, this time in absolute pain.

"Well. . . We'll see what happens now." Lucifer smirked.

"Fuck, Luci, that was  _ hot, _ " Sam breathed.

Lucifer smirked, dropping the sledgehammer down at his feet as the victim whimpered from blood loss and the impending doom of death that was shortly to be occurring for him. "Oh, is it now?" he asked his husband.

Sam slammed him against the wall, kissing him hungrily as he rutted rudely against him. "Fuck, yes, need you, fuck, need you now, please Luci," he begged.

"Someone's an eager little whore, aren't they?" Lucifer purred, smacking Sam's ass. The latter keened and bucked into his hips.

"Luci, Luci, Luci,  _ please _ ?" Sam whimpered.

"What's the magic word?" Lucifer taunted, reaching between the two of them to undo Sam's sweats.

"Sir, please, please Sir, fuck me." Sam whined, squirming.

"You're gonna stay still for me," Lucifer growled, and Sam instantly stilled. "Good boy." He finished undoing the drawstring of Sam's sweatpants and shoved them off of his hips. "The table. Bend over it, facing our guest of honor."

Sam nodded and almost ran to the table, bending over it and spreading his legs. Lucifer observed all of this with a seemingly detached look, but one could tell the arousal, the lust, the  _ hunger _ that was in his own movements, grabbing a bottle of lube and shoving his own pants off before walking over to stand behind Sam. The Marine smirked as he smacked the bright red plug in Sam's ass. "Oh, we prepped already and everything, didn't we?" he cooed. "Excellent, my little pet."

Sam whimpered.

Lucifer slid the plug out in one smooth pull, making the doctor cry out at the loss of it. His hole clenched as cold air hit it, and Lucifer leaned down to lick it, smirking as he tasted the mint flavored lube his husband had deigned to use for this. "Did you know in advance that I was gonna lick your greedy little hole?" he purred.

"N-n-n-n-no, Sir," Sam panted, whining as Lucifer slid his tongue in neatly, rolled up and seeking out Sam's prostate like a missile.

"FUCK!!" Sam shouted once Lucifer located it and licked it once. He whined as the older man withdrew his tongue from his ass, only to cry out once again as the Marine slid deep into him in one solid thrust.

Lucifer bent over Sam, grabbing his wrists and pinning them down to the table before beginning to brutally fuck Sam. The doctor's hips slammed against the table as Lucifer set the punishing pace, and Sam  _ loved _ it.

"MORE, SIR, PLEASE!" he cried out, begging.

"What do you need, you little slut?" Lucifer snarled. "You're covered in blood, you're on a killing high, and you're getting fucked hard and fast. What more could you need?"

"More, just more, please, Sir!" Sam whined, gasping as Lucifer's cock hit his prostate.

"Alright," Lucifer growled. He transferred Sam's wrists to above his head and pinned them down with one hand while the other hand landed on the back of Sam's neck, pinning him down even more as his hips slammed against the younger man's ass faster and harder.

Sam whimpered and squirmed the best he could, fucking himself back onto his husband's cock. He felt his balls tighten up and swell, making him close to release. "Sir, I'm close, I'm so close, please, let me cum," he whined.

"What's that? You want to make a mess of yourself and of the table?" Lucifer asked.

"Yes, Sir, please!!" Sam begged. "I can't hold on any longer!!"

"Then cum, you filthy little bloody whore," Lucifer purred darkly.

Sam came, chest bowing off of the table ecstasy as he painted his belly and the table white, screaming out his pleasure as his hips stuttered against Lucifer's.

Lucifer fucked Sam through his orgasm, watching him slowly calm down and become limp and pliant on the table underneath of him. "Yeah, that's it, I fucked it out of you," he cooed tenderly. Suddenly, he seized and came with a dark growl, leaning over to bite Sam's shoulder blade.

The doctor merely gave a quiet moan of pleasure as he felt his husband fill him up to the brim, hips continuing to roll slowly.

They lay there like that, Lucifer covering Sam with his own body. He slowly released him, rubbing his wrists and the back of his neck where he had been holding his husband.

Sam hummed and finally spoke after a while. "Mmm, that was hotter than the kill," he noted.

Lucifer laughed softly and kissed his cheek. “Well, maybe after dismemberment, you can ride me,” he whispered. 

“I love you,” Sam hummed almost lazily. He was falling asleep. 

Lucifer chuckled. “How much?” 

“I’d murder for you.” 

Lucifer licked the outer shell of Sam’s ear. “Baby, I’d murder  _ with  _ you.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean starts asking questions, then relays answers to Deputy Sheriff Benny Lafitte.

Lucifer, Sam, and Dean walked around the park, casually talking as they did so. 

It was a ‘good’ day for Dean, by way of both melancholia and drinking. He wasn’t too drunk, although his ever present flask was on his hip, and he seemed less inclined to talk about Castiel. The couple considered themselves lucky on both scores and actually had a pleasant time with Dean. 

They all sat down at a park bench to rest, Lucifer massaging his aching hip and Dean reaching for his flask.

"Baby, I told you not to wear a black shirt," Sam sighed, patting his husband's forehead with a bandana. "Let me go buy you a bottle of water so you don't get dehydrated, alright?"

Lucifer sighed and nodded. "Alright," he conceded.

Sam leaned in and kissed his husband. "Love you," he murmured.

Lucifer smiled. "How much?" he whispered.

Sam winked, his usual answer implied. 

"Baby, I'd murder  _ for _ you," Lucifer whispered, so Dean couldn't hear.

Sam chuckled and walked off to go find the vendor.

Lucifer and Dean chatted idly about music and got into a fairly decent debate over which Led Zeppelin album was the best, as well as which song.

"Yer only sayin' Stairway t'Heaven 'cuz it's yers and Sammeh's song," Dean rambled, taking another swig of whatever was in his flask.

"Yeah? And?" Lucifer challenged. "You even admitted it yourself, it's a fantastic song and quite ironic considering my name."

"Yeah," Dean agreed before giving a massive belch. "Hey, Luci?"

"Yeah?" Lucifer asked, turning his head to face Dean.

"D'you e'er think tha' Sammeh migh' be a killah?" he asked.

"What brought this on?" Lucifer asked with a furrowed brow, surprise and maybe a slight hint of wariness in his tone. He didn’t like the fact that Dean was asking this..

"Well, he was o'er one day an' he sai' Cas wa' dead," Dean explained drunkenly. "Bu' 'e was th' las' per'so' t'see Cas alive. An'. . . I dunno, af'er Dad died 'e 'as been off."

Lucifer shrugged. "You also have to remember, John kicked Sam out for merely kissing Brady," he pointed out. "No, I don't think Sam's a killer. We both know I am- with the Marines, I mean. But Sam? Honestly. He loved Castiel like a brother. Was pretty much his brother. Do you really think Sam could have hurt you that way? Besides, what would his motive be?"

Dean pondered this for a while before nodding. "Yeah, I guess yer righ'," he said. "Jus'. . . I dunno. He's my li'le brot'er, bu' he's  _ no _ ', know wha' I mean?"

"He might just simply be involved in other things. His job, the house, his husband- which by the way, hi, I'm right here and I don't like talking about Sam behind his back like we're back in high school," Lucifer said blithely.

"Yer righ'. 'm sorry," Dean said contritely- or as contritely as a drunk man gossiping about his younger brother could.

"Apology accepted," Lucifer said calmly. He smiled as he saw Sam run over the hill, his shirt now off and he gave a playful wolf whistle. "Well there's my sexy husband," he purred.

"Hi," Sam said, collapsing on the bench beside him. "Here, drink your water." He passed Lucifer a water bottle and handed one to Dean. "You too, Dean. In this heat, alcohol is going to dehydrate you faster than anything."

"Wa'er  _ sucks _ ," Dean pouted.

Sam sighed and gave his brother a bitchface. "Dean, drink the water," he said patiently but firmly. "I am  _ not _ carting your ass off to the ER because you decided to be a stubborn ass and get heat exhaustion or heat stroke."

Lucifer began drinking his water steadily, gulping it down in large swallows.

"I be' Luc' can deep throat even yer mons'er cock, Sam," Dean chuckled, watching the older man.

Lucifer blew out a large mouthful of water in surprise at the comment. Coughing, he turned a glance to the Winchester brothers.

Dean shrugged. "Sorry," he said, not sounding sorry like he did earlier.

Sam had turned a beautiful shade of vermillion at the statement his older brother made. "Dean!" he hissed. "We don't discuss things like that in public."

Dean laughed and clapped a surprisingly strong hand on Sam's back. "Aww, Sammeh, ye know 'm jus' teasin' you two."

"Yes, well," Lucifer said to his brother-in-law, clearing his throat. "I didn't really want to hear that you know that your baby brother has a quote unquote, 'monster cock'."

"We grew up together! E'en a' sixteen, 'e was a big'un."

"Alright, conversation about my dick is _ over _ ," Sam declared.

Dean shook his head. "No, no, no," he pouted.

"Yes," Lucifer said, remarkably patiently. "You're my friend, yes, but you're also my brother-in-law. This would be like Gabriel talking to us about my dick."

"Or Mi'hael," Dean slurred.

"Yes, because my overly stuffy brother would talk about my dick," Lucifer said with a straight face.

Dean burst into giggles.

Lucifer and Sam finished off their water and coaxed Dean to drink half of his before the trio took off again, walking down the path and to Dean's home, depositing him in front of a Dr. Sexy rerun, and returning to their home.

"Dean asked me if you were a killer," Lucifer said.

"Oh? What'd you say?"

"Said I'd be the killer more than anything. In hindsight, not the smartest thing I've said," Lucifer confessed.

"Duly noted," Sam said dryly. "Should we. . .?"

"We should start the packing. Let's make it like we're going to go on our anniversary-moon," the Marine said.

The doctor nodded, kissing his husband sweetly. "I love you."

"How much?" Lucifer asked quietly.

"Enough to murder for you," Sam whispered.

"Baby, I'd murder with you," Lucifer finished, kissing Sam's throat. "Go pack. I'll make dinner."

 

"Buddy?" Benny called into Dean's house.

"In 'ere!" Dean's voice rang out from the kitchen.

Benny made his way in and slung the gun belt over a kitchen chair. "Need any help, cher?" he asked.

Dean shook his head, carting the box of pizza over. "Beer?"

"That'd be good," Benny agreed.

Dean pulled out two beers and handed one to Benny. Both men took them off with their rings before clinking the bottles together in camaraderie and sipping them. Well, Benny sipped. Dean chugged half of his.

"Well, what's new?" Benny said, reaching over and grabbing two slices of pizza.

"Not much, wen' fer a walk wif Sammeh and Luci," Dean mentioned.

"How'd that go?" Benny asked.

Dean shrugged. "Okay. Luc' said some weird things."

"Like?" Benny asked.

"Well, Sam told Lucifer that he loved him. Luci asked how much. 'm guessin' tha' th'response t'it wasn' somethin' t'be sai' in poli'e com'any, so Sammeh winked. An' Luc' sai' 'baby, I'd mur'er wif you." Dean took another long swig from the brown bottle to his right. "In'eres'in', huh?"

"Yes," Benny agreed. "Anything else?"

"Well, y'know how a few months bac', Sam sai' Cas wa' dead?"

Benny nodded.

"Well, I aske' Luci about i'. Asked Luci if Sammeh could've done it."

Benny frowned. "What made you ask this?" he asked.

"Sammeh was the las' one t'see Cas alive," Dean explained. "An' so I jus' thought maybe.. . tha' happen'd?" the older Winchester shrugged.

"What did Lucifer say?" Benny asked, his mind now in cop mode. Some Things were starting to kind of make sense in the deputy sheriff's mind about the Winchester family.

"Luci sai' that Sammeh would've'd no mo'ive, 'e lo'ed Cas like a brother. And Luci's right. Luci also sai' he coul' be a killah, since 'e was in th'Marines an' all," Dean finished. "An' he also said he didn't appre-she-ate talkin' 'bout his husban' behin' 'is bac'. Which I un'ers'oo', y'know?"

Benny nodded.

He'd started looking at the missing person's report, and they were going back five, six years. And several of the last people who had seen them last were Sam and Lucifer. They were often reported that they were seen with them at the park, and he knew insults from them to the couple were often thrown. Hell, he’s even seen Lucifer move quickly to threaten violence with the cane, but never did anything beyond scare them. 

_ Is it possible? Is it possible that these two may be the connection we’re looking for?  _

"Dean, are you gonna be alright for a couple of days after tonight on your own?" Benny asked his closest friend.

"Sure," Dean burped.

"Okay, I might get tied up at the station," the cop explained. "Lots of missing persons cases."

"Of course, I don' min'."

They had a pleasant evening and when Benny was leaving, he radioed in.

"Home base, this is Deputy Sheriff Lafitte. I want the files of Sam and Lucifer Winchester on my desk in 10."

"10-4."


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newspaper article

**_NORMAL COUPLE FLEE- ARE THEY MURDERERS???_ **

**Becky Rosen, Reporter**

_ Two seemingly normal people have fled our sleepy little town after an investigation came up and a woodchipper was discovered on their property with traces of blood in the inner workings. Just whose blood it is remains to be seen.  _

_ Doctor Samuel “Sam” Winchester and his husband, Colonel Lucifer Winchester, have fled their farmhouse where they have been made their home for the past seven years. The discovery was made yesterday, when Sheriff Benjamin Lafitte went to go inquire about the woodchipper on their property.  _

_ Is it possible that two pillars of the community were murderers this entire time? _

_ Sheriff Lafitte has declined to comment at this time, as have Michael and Gabriel Novak, Colonel Winchester’s older and younger brothers. Dean Winchester, Dr. Winchester’s older brother, has made mention in drunken passing that his brother implied that Castiel Novak, Colonel Winchester’s youngest brother and Mr. Winchester’s one time beau who disappeared shortly after his eighteenth birthday, was dead.  _

_ Could  young Castiel Winchester have been the victim of foul play at the hands of his older brother and his husband? If the Winchesters  _ are _ murderers, how many people have been killed? And where are all the bodies? Evidence suggests that the woodchipper is the murder weapon; but a thorough look through the Winchesters’ farmhouse will reveal more. _

_ The case of Castiel Novak has been reopened upon the testimony of Dean Winchester and at the city’s demand. _

_ If these two men are proven innocent of the crimes that they will be accused of, then one can assume that they left to have a steamy, sexy getaway as their anniversary just passed last week.  _

_ Picture on the right: Sam and Lucifer Winchester on their wedding day, exiting Judge Jody Mills’ office. Photo credit to Chuck Novak.  _

_ Picture on the left: Sam and Lucifer Winchester sharing a chaste kiss at the town pride parade in front of Sam’s medical office, adorned in pride flags and wearing flower crowns. Photo credit to Becky Rosen _

_ Picture below right: Sam Winchester doing paperwork for his medical practice. Photo credit to Charlie Bradbury _

_ Picture below left: Lucifer Winchester trains potential Marines in his garden outside of his home. Photo credit to Sam Winchester.  _


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benjamin Lafitte and a CSI team examine the Inn

Benjamin Lafitte grew up in the streets of New Orleans, spent several years as a homicide detective for the city as well, before retreating up to this quiet town and working for several years as a deputy sheriff. 

Even for all the crazy ass stuff he saw down in the city of Mardi Gras and good ol’ Creole cooking (he’s never going to forget the Mardi Gras prostitute murders seven years ago and the reason for his retreat after the case closed), he wasn’t expecting what he found in Sam and Lucifer Winchester’s upstairs house, known to all as the “Inn”. 

The “Inn”. . . . more like a house of horrors. 

It was a mess, like they had left in a hurry, and they had. The Toolbox was upended, some of the tools spilled out and a couple looking like they were still covered in blood. The St Andrews cross had been dismantled and chopped up, but the restraints were still there. 

The CSI team stayed in the living room while he traveled to the blood soaked kitchen, where a rookie turned green at the sight of what looked like the cranial cap of their last victim and several doctor’s tools. Electrodes laid scattered, bits of brain matter sticking to the wires. 

Pulling on a pair of gloves, Benny inspected the knife block in the kitchen, grimacing when he noted that the knives were naturally painted red. 

“I want this entire house covered in luminol, and every single stain you find tested,” he commanded. 

“Yes, Sheriff.” The rookie paused. “Tested for just blood?” 

“Blood and semen,” the hardened cop stated, feeling queasy thinking about it. 

He made the mistake of opening up the fridge and finding a couple of glass mason jars holding human hearts, the ages and general physique of the victims taken from written on notecards and taped in Sam Winchester’s large, blocky handwriting. They were sitting there casually, as if there were other things in the fridge and human hearts were a normal thing to put in one’s fridge. 

Closing the fridge door, he found a note in Lucifer’s looping scrawl. 

_ Sam- went out for more batteries. You need the 9 volts, you’re almost out. The patient’s in and not going anywhere. Left the key in your pocket. -Your angel.  _

“I think I’m going to vomit,” he mumbled. Leaving the kitchen, he made his way to the second bedroom and shuddered. It looked like an extreme torture room, and he found the freezers. Making his way over, he tried to open them, only to find them locked. Taking a look at the locks, he noticed that there were Russian letters mixed in with the Latin alphabet and numbers. He had a fair bit of cryptographic knowledge, but not knowing what Sam and Lucifer had in the freezers, it was better to not fiddle with them. 

“I need a lock breaker!” he shouted. 

A CSI agent ran in and broke both locks. Giving the agent a nod, he slid one of the locks out and opened the freezer. Swearing, he breathed through his mouth as he tried not to vomit and looked into the freezer again, the photographer having found him and was now snapping pictures.

That was definitely a body in there, frozen into an icily gruesome scene of horror. Motioning for coolers, he began removing the body parts, trying not to think about the poor soul that had died at the hands of the men he knew. Sam and Lucifer were two of the most openly happy people he knew. When he moved in, about five miles away from their farmhouse, Lucifer drove to bring them brownies he had baked and Sam was one of the most proficient doctors he had ever met. Both were always very professional towards him, and he never missed the way they looked at each other. Sam always looked at Lucifer like he was an angel who rescued him from Hell, and Lucifer looked at Sam like he was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. 

“How do two people,” he murmured in awe, “sink to this level?” The body safely in the cooler, he told two of them to take it to the medical examiner while he looked into the second, and blissfully empty, freezer. 

He made his way to the shower and rolled his eyes. “Blood red everything? Really boys?” he murmured as he ducked inside everything. Nothing, except for the interior, looked out of place. 

He shook his head at the sign on the master bedroom door and slowly opened it, looking around. This was the  _ only  _ room in the upper house not painted the sickly shade of blood and that looked normal. The bed was made by Lucifer- a quick glance at the corners and the military style of the bedding told him that- and was obviously a refuge for the elder serial killer, whereas the downstairs- where they lived and allowed guests- was obviously Sam’s. 

“Do you have any idea where they’d go, Sheriff?” one of the rookies asked timidly as the CSI photographer snapped photos around him. 

“Not a clue. But they have an alias. Look for John and Joseph Milton as well as Samuel and Lucifer Winchester. Put an APB out on the 2007 Chevy Volt.” Benny turned and walked down the murder hallway and into the murder living room. He wanted to get out of there. 

On the way out, he stopped by the large portrait of the duo he was looking to arrest. “Also, put in a call to the FBI. Take the portrait off the wall and use it for police sketches. I want these two found and put behind bars.” 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chase is on!

In the local newspaper:

**_CONFIRMED: SAM AND LUCIFER WINCHESTER WANTED FOR MURDERS_ **

**Becky Rosen, Reporter**

_ It appears that Sam and Lucifer Winchester are wanted for murders. Plural.  _

_ The body count keeps getting higher and higher, right now Sheriff Benjamin Lafitte is predicting the body count is at thirty and they are finding more and more evidence to connect these seemingly normal people to these heinous crimes.  _

_ The missing persons case of Castiel Novak is now being considered a homicide case without a body. . . .  _

 

Somewhere in Omaha, Nebraska:

“Can’t believe you broke the bed fucking me at the last sleazy motel,” Sam breathed, pinned underneath Lucifer in the flatbed of the truck they had stolen. They were now in a truck stop somewhere in the Midwest, hiding back in “Party Row” where the sounds of sex would be covered up thanks to lot lizards getting fucked by truckers.  

“And I can’t believe you made an anonymous tip to the police,” Lucifer laughed, leaning in to suck a mark into his neck, “Saying we were going to  _ Florida. _ ”

“I was real specific, had an address in Miami and everything,” Sam giggled, arching up into his husband’s ministrations. 

“My conniving lover,” Lucifer purred, tearing Sam’s shirt off of him, smirking down at his now blond husband. “I can’t wait until you get your normal hair color back,” he whispered. 

“Me too,” Sam whispered, running his fingers through Lucifer’s short black locks. “Although the black does look good on you.” 

“Mmm, makes me look better?” The former Marine grinned. 

“Makes you look  _ wicked. _ ” 

Hot lips collided and there were no more words spoken. 

 

In the local paper

**_Anonymous Tip a Bust- Could It Have Been the Murderers?_ **

**Becky Rosen, Reporter**

_ A tip leading law enforcement down to Miami, Florida has turned up dead, and Sheriff Benjamin Lafitte is wondering if that was the work of the killers themselves.  _

_ The body count of Sam and Lucifer Winchester’s killing spree is now up to thirty-five, and there’s no more leads coming in to say where they are at.  _

_ “Both Sam and Lucifer are smart,” Sheriff Lafitte said in his strong Cajun accent. “And they’ve planned ahead more than we gave them credit for.”  _

_ There is no more information regarding the missing, presumed dead, case of Castiel Novak. Dean Winchester makes the first ever passionate plea for his high school sweetheart to come back to him, the first time he’s done so ever since Castiel disappeared.  _

 

Somewhere in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma:

“Did you see the headlines?” Lucifer asked. “They think we killed Castiel.” 

“Like we would’ve killed him,” Sam scoffed, sticking his feet out of the van window as Lucifer drove towards New Mexico. “The two of us would’ve been caught in no time if we killed my brother’s lover.” 

“Truth. Besides, Cassie was in the same boat you were so why would you do so? Doesn’t fit your  _ modus operandi. _ ”

“You’ve been listening to Michael again, haven’t you?” 

“Yes. Sadly.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s sexy.” 

“It’s sexy quoting criminal law stuff at you?” Lucifer quirked his lips into a smirk. 

“We play cop and criminal role play all the time, of course I think it’s sexy,” Sam grinned. 

“Good thing we got cuffs, don’t we?” 

“No breaking the motel bed.”

“No promises. I’ll fuck you on the floor.” 

“Only if I’m on my back. I’m not getting rug burn on my dick again.” 

“Deal.”

 

In a local tabloid magazine:

**_Sam and Lucifer Winchester Named Sexiest Criminals_ **

**Anonymous**

_ The Winchester murder husbands have been named the “Sexiest Criminals” of the twenty first century. No complaints from THIS reporter! While the award was given based on looks alone, the fact that they are intelligent, strong, and engage in marital activities with each other certainly boosts up the sexy factor. I wonder who tops and who bottoms? _

_ The body count is up to forty and the criminals have now been on the run for two months. Sheriff Lafitte and the FBI liaison, Victor Henrickson, are starting to get fidgety.  _

_ “Will they kill on the run? Who knows,” Lafitte said.  _

_ Dean Winchester made another desperate, passionate plea for any information about Castiel Novak and/or his disappearance.  _

_ Michael Novak, Lucifer Winchester’s older brother, has asked for his brother to hand him and Sam over quietly and perhaps this issue can be resolved peacefully. The lawyer has his doubts that his younger brother committed these heinous crimes. _

 

On the Riverwalk in San Antonio, Texas:

“Where to next, love?” Sam asked as they shared a vanilla ice cream cone in the Texan heat, keeping by the cool waters of the river that ran through the vibrant city of San Antonio. 

“Hmmm. . . We should think about going east for a bit,” Lucifer said thoughtfully. “But let’s go west again. How does Salt Lake City sound?” 

“Delightfully dreadful. Let’s just  _ go  _ to the Mormon capital of the US, yes, brilliant idea babe.” Sam’s voice was sarcastic. 

Lucifer chuckled. “No one is going to look for us in a place of such  _ high moral standards, _ ” he teased, but he had a point.

Sam nodded. “Alright. Utah it is.”

 

In the local paper back home

**_Police Disable Anonymous Tip Hotline_ **

**Becky Rosen, Reporter**

_ In light of the amount of misinformation being filtered through the anonymous tip line, including several calls that may’ve been made by either Sam or Lucifer Winchester leading them in the wrong direction, Sheriff Benjamin Lafitte has disabled the anonymous tip hotline.  _

_ “We need to capture these killers,” he explained in the statement he gave to the press, “and they’re taking advantage of the tools we give to the public so that they can throw us off their trail.” It is a great inconvenience, he later admitted, but reminded the public that the Federal Bureau of Investigation has their own special anonymous tip hotline for those concerned citizens who do not want their names mentioned.  _

_ It has been four months since Sam and Lucifer Winchester fled the town and have led police and the FBI on a nationwide manhunt. A reward is being posted for any information that leads up to the capture of these two killers. The body count has now plateaued at forty-five, and everyone is praying that there will be no more bodies found.  _

_ The coroner has said that the killing has been spread out over a series of six years at the very least, showing methodical thought and premeditation.  _

_ That means that Sam and Lucifer Winchester are far scarier than anyone hoped, as no one suspected that this seemingly ordinary couple could have committed such heinous acts.  _

_ Dean Winchester has made another passionate plea for someone to find even a trace of Castiel Novak, his former high school sweetheart and speculation is at an all time high. Did Sam and Lucifer Winchester kill Castiel Novak? Many experts have pointed out that no, since Castiel disappeared long before their murderous spree; indeed, long before Lucifer and Sam began dating, it's highly unlikely that the couple had anything to do with his disappearance. _

_ Is it possible that while his husband was off fighting for our country, Sam Winchester spilled his first blood by killing his older brother’s boyfriend? _

 

In a hotel somewhere in the Sierra Nevada: 

“Luci?” 

“Hmm,” Lucifer hummed his acknowledgment of his name sleepily as moonlight shed light on their post-coital figures. Sam’s face was resting on Lucifer’s shoulder, snuggled into his husband’s side. Sam’s hands were still cuffed around Lucifer’s neck, and they were both covered in cooling sweat and drying cum. 

“Have you given thought to. . . us splitting up for a little bit?” Sam asked hesitantly. 

Lucifer turned a surprised eyebrow to his husband. “No, I haven’t. Why do you ask?” he asked calmly. 

Sam fidgeted, thinking about how to answer. “I was just thinking strategy. If we split up, the chances of us getting caught is slimmer. Even if one of us gets captured, the other one is still free and can work to bust the caught person out.” 

Lucifer turned onto his side and wrapped his arms around Sam’s waist. He placed a chaste kiss on his husband’s lips. “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you, and I wasn’t there to protect you,” he murmured. “Call me selfish, call me clingy, overbearing, whatever. But what if you get hurt? I’m not talking about a little scrape on your knee. I’m talking about a shootout in which you die. I’m talking about someone taking advantage of you.” 

The doctor sighed and cuddled into his husband. “I can take care of myself,” he murmured. 

The Marine ran soothing hands up and down Sam’s back. “Baby, I just want to be with you. No matter what happens.” 

Sam nodded. “I know.” 

“Besides, we need each other. Like we always do.” Lucifer pressed his lips to Sam’s brow. “Where would I be without my strong, handsome doctor?” 

“And where would I be without my strong, handsome Marine?” Sam smiled into the hollow of Lucifer’s throat. 

There was a soft, comfortable silence between the two of them before Sam chuckled softly.

"Care to remove the cuffs now? I really don't want to sleep with them on."

Lucifer smiled and reached behind his neck with the key that was on top of the headboard. He's surprised that they didn't break it. He undid the cuffs and looked at Sam, massaging his wrists soothingly.

"Luci?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"How much?"

"Enough to murder for you."

"Baby, I'd murder with you."

 

In the Local Paper:

**_MORE BODIES FOUND_ **

**Becky Rosen, Reporter**

_ Unfortunately, there seems to be no end to the depravity of Sam and Lucifer Winchester. Four more missing persons reports were brought to the attention of the FBI and the police, all of whom were last seen by either Winchester before they disappeared. Did they stay a night in "The Inn", as the Winchesters affectionately called their upstairs rooms, which turned out to be a room built for murdering? It would appear so. _

_ Michael Novak is attempting to disengage from the fact that his younger brother is a cold blooded killer. "He must've suffered psychotic breaks, it happens with war veterans," he said. "Luci, wherever you are, come home, please. Sam too." _

_ While this may be true and a possible explanation for why Lucifer turned to murder, but why did shy, sweet Sam? Barring dealing with John Winchester kicking him out when he was sixteen for being bisexual, there seemed to be little to no reason for the good doctor to have killed nearly fifty people. _

_ And could his first victim have been nearly seventeen years ago, with blue eyed Castiel Novak? _

 

Somewhere in the Colorado Rockies

"You know, we could stay here," Lucifer hummed. Outside, the snow gently wafted down onto the sleepy little skiing village they were now hiding in. "Well not  _ here _ here, but you know. Go off the grid. Build a house. Hide away from the rest of the world. Grow old together."

Sam smiled and turned in his embrace to gaze at Lucifer. "I'd like that," he admitted. "Maybe after things die down more."

Lucifer nodded. "We wouldn't need much. A kitchen, a bathroom, a bedroom," he said.

"Woodstove and tub," Sam nodded, smiling. "We could make our bed. Make all of our furniture, really."

"Only go into town for groceries," the Marine smiled. "And to go shopping."

"Go for days without seeing another face because of the storms."

Lucifer looked at his husband lovingly. "Give up this life of crime?"

"Yes. All of it. Just settle down. The two of us." The doctor smiled up at Lucifer. "Let's do it."

"When things have died down," Lucifer promised. "And then we'll carve our own slice of heaven."

Sam kissed Lucifer chastely. "As long as you're here, I'm already in Heaven."

"Sap," Lucifer teased affectionately.

"Well, we can't bring Hell to Heaven. So let's bring Heaven to Hell," Sam purred.

Lucifer couldn't help but kiss Sam deeper then, overwhelmed by the sudden emotions that took place.

They would have their issues. Sam would still need to sate his bloodlust, but hopefully, animals and Lucifer's wrist would be enough.

They just wanted to be left alone now.

 

Tabloids

**_Police Baffled by Winchester Murder Husbands Case_ **

_ There is no sign of Sam and Lucifer Winchester, a couple wanted for a series of ghoulish kidnappings, tortures and murders. _

_ Partners in everything, the Winchester murder husbands have been married for nearly seven and a half years, during eight of which they would lure men into their home and kill them. The couple's methods have tended to be gruesome, and though a disturbingly small number of bodies have been recovered, there is always "Hannibal", the Winchesters woodchipper, which was discovered to have blood traces on its blades. _

_ And disturbing new evidence reveals that their spree could have began earlier. _

_ They had premeditated the murder of John Winchester, the now dead town drunk and low-life father of Sam Winchester. Sam harbored no love for his father; John Winchester kicked his younger son out at sixteen, when he caught the boy kissing another boy from his class one day after school and in his home. _

_ It was apparently Lucifer's idea, according to a journal the ex-Marine kept in his nightstand. In it, he writes: _

Sam is restless. We will need another kill soon; he's feeling upset and is getting the itch. But then again, the anniversary of his father's death is always hard on him. What should be a day of celebration is instead a day filled with bitter regret. I often catch myself wondering how different our lives would be if I never suggested to Sam that we kill John. It could be very different, or it'd be the same. I have no clue; the only one who knows is God- if he's even there. I wish I could take away my husband's pain; that I could be the one to shoulder his burden, but that wasn't the plan. So I just have to be there for him. If we don't find someone soon, I fear nothing I can do will stop Sam from creating a bloodbath.

_ Profilers are filtering in from all around the world to try to profile the murdering duo. _

_ The photo used here is from one of the many pride parades that they attended as a couple. Sam is bisexual; Lucifer is homosexual. Photo used with permission. _

 

Kansas City, Missouri

"Single King," Lucifer said, tossing some cash that they earned from hustling pool down onto the greasy counter of the sleazy hotel he and Sam were going to be using.

The man nodded, made a note. "Name?"

"Dantes Alighieri," Lucifer said smoothly.

The man nodded and shooed the two away with a key. "Room 205."

"Thank you."

They collapsed on the large, springy, and most likely bedbug filled mattress and fell hungrily into each other's mouths.

"One more week, and we're at our cabin," Sam breathed.

"We're  _ building _ our cabin," Lucifer corrected.

"You're right," Sam agreed with a little laugh. "Now just fuck me."

"With pleasure," Lucifer chuckled, already going to work on relieving Sam of all of his clothing.

 

The manager listened to the sounds of amorous love-making from 205 before dialing the FBI hotline.

"Hello? Yes, you know those two murderers you're looking for? The Winchesters? They just took a room in my hotel. Yeah, I'm fairly certain it's them. Yeah, they put their name down as Dantes Alighieri. Okay. Twelve hours, and you'll be here? Okay, yeah. I don't think they plan on moving from their room for a while, except for maybe food."

"FUCK!" echoed down the hall and the man pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Yes, they paid for two nights. Cash. Look man, I'm fairly certain that it's them. I kid you not. I mean they dyed their hair, but how do you hide a six foot four frame? Yeah. Yeah, I got pics. Of course I'll email them. Okay, thank you." He hung up and smiled.

"Good bye, and good riddance," he said as he brought up the security footage and emailed it to Victor Henrikson. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captured!

“FREEZE!” 

Sam groaned and rolled his face more into his pillow. “Luce, I’m not in the mood to play cop and criminal,” he moaned. “It’s five in the morning and you wore me out.” 

“What the actual fuck are you talking about, Sam?” Lucifer grumbled, rolling his hips into Sam’s, giving a soft moan as his half hard cock slid neatly over the black silicone plug inside of his husband.

“Samuel and Lucifer Winchester, please remove yourselves from the bed and stand up, hands where we can see them,” an official voice said. 

“Fuck,” the serial killers said at the same time. 

“Officer, I’m fairly certain that you’d want us to get dressed,” Lucifer said pleasantly for someone being woken up at the crack of dawn by police officers, completely naked except for the not completely on cock ring and a bandage around his right wrist. Sam was naked except for the black plug nestled inside of him and a set of nipple clamps. 

Silence radiated from the cops. If they were expecting to catch the two in the act of murder, they were sorely disappointed, as it looked like they had just busted in on a very kinky sex scene. 

The most senior officer finally spoke after a long, pregnant pause. “Please remove yourselves from the bed and put on clothes, please, preferably without the sex toys and put your hands on your head. You are under arrest.” 

“For what charges?” Lucifer said sleepily, waking up his back to sleep husband. “Baby, we gotta go.” 

“Wanna sleep.” 

“I know.” 

“For the kidnapping, torture, and murder of Junior Cardlioz, among others,” the officer stated. 

“Both of us?” Sam mumbled, fumbling around for his boxers. 

“Without the plug, please, Doctor Winchester. And yes, both of you.” 

Lucifer leaned over and gently removed the plug from Sam’s rear, lapping his tongue over the gaping hole, laughing at the pleasurable shudder from his husband with a smirk. Sliding off the cock ring, he stretched and slid on his jeans, not even doing the button before pulling on his shirt.The cops just stared at them, two of them making gagging noises behind their raised pistols, but most were just stunned at the depravity that was just displayed. Here are two men, married, murderers who are about to be arrested, and they have the audacity to be sexual in front of them?  

Once they were both dressed and not wearing anything sexual in nature, Sam and Lucifer put their hands behind their heads, facing away from the officers. 

“Fucking hell,” Sam breathed. 

“Bet it was the clerk.” Lucifer sighed quietly. 

“The truth?” 

“Of course. And don’t say anything to them until Alastair and Lilith get there. Not unless it’s ‘I plead the Fifth’ or ‘Where’s my lawyer?’.” 

“Dr. and Colonel Winchester, you are under arrest.” Both men were shoved harshly onto the bed. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything that you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you.” 

As they were handcuffed, a rookie spoke up. “Sarge, we almost didn’t need to bring the cuffs, they had brought their own. It’s almost like they  _ wanted  _ to be caught.” 

Sam and Lucifer snickered. 

“That was inappropriate.” 

“Truth, though.” 

When neither of the cops were looking, Sam and Lucifer looked at each other. Blue grey looked down from green-gold and then they were kissing fiercely, like they’d never be able to kiss each other again. They slotted together easily, like they had kissed with their hands cuffed behind their backs before. Sam’s tongue licked at Lucifer’s lower lip, asking for entry. Lucifer was only too happy to comply. 

“HEY!” 

The two lovers were roughly shoved apart, their lips red and kiss bitten. Lucifer lapped at his lower lip, where Sam had bit down on it in an attempt to keep himself close to his husband and there was a trickle of blood. The sergeant gave them a look of disgust. “You boys keep everything to yourselves, alright? Nobody wants to see your disgusting displays of false affection.” 

Rage shone in Sam’s eyes and he began fighting against the cop who had him, eager to get at the older cop.    
“SAM!” 

The doctor stopped and looked at his husband, fury bleeding off of him in palpable measures.

“Now’s not the time,” Lucifer soothed, trying to get through to his husband. “I need you to focus. I need you to be here, with me. Understand?” 

Sam whined and nodded. “But Luce-”    
“I know. I know, baby, I know. But I need my King to be stronger than them, okay? Stronger for us. Can you do that for us?” 

Sam nodded and allowed himself to relax and led out of the hotel room, followed by his husband and the cops following him. 

A rookie followed up in the back, looking around. He was thinking about handing in his resignation when he got back to the office and did the final paperwork for this case. If all killers were as scarily normal as Samuel and Lucifer Winchester, then he should be frightened. 

But what scared him the most was that he recognized the look in the doctor’s eyes at the sergeant’s words. That was the look of a man about to commit cold blooded murder, and yet, the former Marine calmed down the rage and made the doctor docile.    
He didn’t want to stick around to see if the doctor could do the same thing to his husband. Because if a homophobic cop was enough to make Dr. Winchester go off while the Colonel barely batted an eye, what would make Lucifer Winchester go off?


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Trial

The trial dawned on a sunny day in June. Sam and Lucifer were granted permission to wear suits, provided that they wore handcuffs, and they were allowed to hold hands, which they thought was more important than being able not to wear the prison orange uniform that they had been wearing. 

The media was having a field day as they were escorted in. Lucifer scowled and snarled at the reporters, while Sam simply ignored them, helping his husband up the heavy concrete stairs leading up to the courthouse. They swapped a tender, chaste kiss as Lucifer thanked his lover for the support before they headed inside. 

The opening arguments were heard as they relaxed and sipped on coffee. Lilith and Alastair sat on either side of their clients. 

“The Prosecution calls forth Sheriff Benjamin Lafitte to testify.” 

They called forth everyone they could that day- namely, Sheriff Lafitte and the forensics team that cleaned up the Inn. Sam couldn’t help but snicker at the fact that someone threw up after photographing the hearts in the mason jars in the fridge. Lucifer gave him a look, and Sam shrugged. 

Court let out at three on the first day. 

 

It started up again at nine the next morning, with a break for lunch at noon. The Prosecution had called forth Metatron, resulting in Lucifer hissing vile obscenities under his breath while the other writer sat on the stand with a smug expression on his face, and a few of the officers who had arrested them. 

Court let out at five that day, and Lucifer nearly fell down the steps, having not stretched his hip and being on his feet for an entire day. Sam caught him and half carried him to the prison transport

 

On the third day, they finished cross-examining the prosecution's witnesses and began calling up the defense. First up was Michael, who passionately informed them of the childhood that both Lucifer and Sam had led, the marriage, everything. They called forth a psychiatrist, the psychiatrist who gave them their evals upon arrival at the prison. 

That is probably where they went wrong. 

“Doctor Talbot, would you say that these men are in their right minds?” 

“That depends on what you mean by “in their right mind”, sir.” 

“Do you think that they knew what they were doing was wrong, Doctor?”

“I would say that they had the mental capacity to know that killing someone is wrong, yes.” 

“Would you say that they knew this in the heat of the moment?” 

Lucifer snickered under his breath, giving a breathless grin at the elbow from his husband. 

“I believe that yes.” 

“Doctor Talbot, you gave both Dr. and Col. Winchester psychiatric evaluations at the prison. What were their mental states at the time?” 

“Calm. Cool. Collected. Colonel Winchester was very soldierly, while Doctor Winchester tended to be more passionate with his emotions, the further the evaluation went.” 

“What would you ascertain about Doctor Winchester?” 

“Doctor Winchester has not had an easy upbringing. An alcoholic father who beat him regularly and threw him out of the house at sixteen years old for his sexual orientation. Two years later, his older brother’s boyfriend disappeared without a trace and his eldest brother spiralled down the same path as his father. He obtained his pre-med at Stanford and did his medical degree at Johns Hopkins. Doctor Winchester is a very intelligent man, and highly in tune with his emotions. He is, however, prone to aggressive outbursts, especially when his husband is threatened.” 

“How long have they been married?” 

“Just over eight years a month ago.” 

“Do you think having a war-torn husband would’ve had an effect on Doctor Winchester’s mindset?” 

“That is impossible to say at this time.” 

“What did you ascertain about Colonel Winchester?” 

“His childhood wasn’t as difficult as Doctor Winchester’s. He grew up in a loving home, surrounded by his brothers and his friends. He enlisted into the Marine Corps at the age of seventeen and left for boot camp the summer of his eighteenth birthday. He served his country for fourteen years before a bullet to his right hip medically discharged him, upon which he returned home and reunited with Doctor Winchester. Colonel Winchester was regarded as strong, silent, and stoic, the perfect Marine, although he had a great sense of humor and had the voice of an angel, which made him highly popular amongst the Corps, especially during tours of duty.” 

“What would’ve triggered homicidal tendencies, Dr. Talbot?” 

“It could’ve been as something as simple as an insult to either one of them.” 

“Dr. Talbot, out of the two men, which one would you consider more dangerous to society?” 

“Depends on what you classify as a danger to society.” 

“Say the prosecution decides that one of them is. . . . less guilty than the other.” The prosecutor looked over the woman sitting on the stand. “Which one would you say is less of a danger to the public than the other? As in, who would you rather have roaming the streets?”

Dr. Talbot was silent for a long time, and Lucifer waited with bated breath. 

“Personally, I would prefer Colonel Winchester being back out on the streets than Dr. Winchester,” she finally said. “Colonel Winchester has better control over his emotions, particularly those dealing with rage. While they both are more than capable of killing, Colonel Winchester was oftentimes not holding the instrument of death.” 

Lucifer’s jaw dropped and he shook his head.  _ His Sam, more capable of killing than him?  _ He was a trained killer; a Marine. He served tours in Iraq and Afghanistan; he’s killed more people than Sam, even if it was in the name of war. And yet,  _ Sam _ was the killer that they wouldn’t want out? He couldn’t comprehend it. 

“Luci?” Sam asked in a low voice, noticing his husband’s tremors. 

“Dr. Talbot, what gives you the idea that Dr. Winchester is the more dangerous of the two men sitting before you, besides emotional capacity?” 

“Dr. Winchester has precise medical knowledge and has confessed to being an erotophonophile.” 

“Can you explain to the ladies and gentlemen of the court and the jury what an erotophonophile is?” 

“Erotophonophilia is the classification of someone who gets sexual pleasure from killing someone. This often extends to, at the very least, mutiliation of the victim’s genitals. While Dr. Winchester will proclaim that it’s because the men who he’s killed- predominantly homophobics- don’t deserve having a penis, he does derive a certain sort of pleasure from it, and that pleasure is sexual in nature. For instance, when he recounted the killing of Orlando Casey, his pupils dilated and his voice became very aroused, as did his face and he did have a noticeable physical reaction to the recollection.”

“Remind the court and the jury how Orlando Casey, victim number thirty-four, was murdered.” 

“Doctor and Colonel Winchester had tortured him through starvation, humiliation, and cutting into him. This was primarily Dr. Winchester’s doing. When they were finally ready to kill him, Dr. Winchester took sterilized box cutters and basically skinned off Mr. Casey’s penis, as though he was giving a botched circumcision.” Dr. Talbot swallowed, slightly pale from the recollection. Two members of the jury, both women, also looked a little sick, and every man in the courtroom, with the exception of Lucifer (who was busy trying to wrap his brain around the idea that a professional thought Sam, sweet Sam was more dangerous than him) and Sam (who delighted in the retelling) was holding their crotches in sympathy pains. “It takes roughly seven minutes for a man to bleed out of their genitals, and it is a painful, bloody death.” 

“Would you say that Colonel Winchester is an erotophonophile as well?” 

“Colonel Winchester gets sexually pleasured from watching his partner get sexually pleasured. Dr. Winchester also has hematolagnia.” 

“And what, exactly, is hematolagnia?” 

“Erotic arousal from blood. Dr. Winchester and, to an extent, Colonel Winchester, enjoy the sight of blood, especially upon each other. Dr. Winchester may also suffer from the little known psychiatric diagnosis of Renfield’s Syndrome, aptly named after Dracula’s human pet who drank flies and spiders’ blood in Bram Stoker’s  _ Dracula. _ This diagnosis, however, is not widely accepted across the psychiatric community and there is little to no research on it.”

One of the female jurors got up to locate a trashcan to puke into. 

Sam was snickering at everything that was happening. He was also getting aroused. 

“You’re a  _ monster, _ ” a woman breathed from behind them just before all hell broke loose. 

The court erupted into pandemonium. The judge couldn’t keep anyone under control. Everyone was screaming, yelling, standing up and pointing fingers at Sam, calling him a monster, a freak, a murderer. Trash beneath their feet. Someone who ought to be locked up. One older gentleman said that Sam should go on a date with Old Sparky, why give him an easy death?

Finally Lucifer stood up, ramrod straight. 

“Luci?” Sam whispered, but it fell upon deaf ears, and Sam couldn’t help but groan. Lucifer was in “Marine-mode”, which meant that a major melt down was in the making. 

“EVERYBODY SIT DOWN AND SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Lucifer shouted in a commanding voice.

Everybody  _ froze. _ Everybody sat down. Everybody became quiet, having  _ never  _ heard Lucifer shout like he was on the battlefield or as a drill instructor in front of recruits before.

“Everybody. What happened to ‘innocent until proven guilty’? What happened to being able to make comments in court that should not be even mentioned, as the person who said them isn’t even on the stand, much less a witness for this trial?” He barked. “You are looking at the facts, and you’re looking at them with a hard eye. You’re blaming  _ my  _ husband for things he may or may not have done- as of right now, he is still innocent of any crime. The verdict has not yet passed. And why are you so quick to pass judgement on him, and yet on me, it’s almost like I get a free pass? Am I not on trial for the same crimes Sam is? Or am I given a free pass because I fought for  _ you  _ being able to have the freedom and the honor to be able to prosecute me?” He blew out a deep breath. “Is it because Dr. Talbot is saying things like ‘Sam Winchester gets off on murdering people’? ‘Sam Winchester finds the sight of blood arousing’? And there’s nothing like that for me? I’m just. . . a Marine with post-traumatic stress disorder and a fucked up hip? ‘Oh, he’s a war hero; we’ll give him a free pass, bless his heart’.” He sneered. “Did you not hear Dr. Talbot? I, to an extent, also enjoy a bit of blood play. I enjoy the idea of Sam being covered in it and riding me into the fucking sunset like I’m some majestic steed. Or are you too busy focusing on discriminating against  _ my husband? _ Sam should get the same free pass I do. Look at whom his father was. Old Man Winchester was the fucking town drunk and got into fights every fucking night and fucking beat his son within an inch of his life the day he found him kissing another boy and kicked him the fuck out of his house. Sure, Dean Winchester ain’t no prize either, but at least he’s a fucking melancholy drunk and still tries to provide goods and services to our town.” Sweat beaded down his forehead. “Don’t judge just one of us. Judge both of us,  _ as a unit. _ Because that’s what we are. A unit. We are  _ bound  _ by marriage and love- don’t think that just ‘cause I’m a war hero, doesn’t mean I get a free pass while you run  _ my husband _ through the dirt.” With that he turned around and slumped in his chair, covering his eyes with his hands and sobbing.

Sam quickly tugged Lucifer into his lap and rocked him soothingly, pressing skating kisses along his temple as he rubbed gentle circles into the base of his neck in the silence of the courtroom, the former Marine’s words echoing in everyone’s minds.

“I think we’re done with court today,” Judge Mills said softly. “Dismissed, see everyone 9 AM tomorrow morning.” She banged her gavel, and silently, everyone left but the two murderers. 

Sam soothed Lucifer enough to get him shuffling out of the courtroom, biting his lower lip and head down. 

As the guards lead the two well dressed criminals out of the courthouse, Sam began to softly sing, holding his husband’s hand. 

_ No one knows what it’s like  _

_ To be the bad man  _

_ To be the sad man _

_ Behind blue eyes _

Lucifer’s lips quirked into a very small smile. It was the song, besides “Stairway to Heaven”, that was played at their wedding, and it never failed to make one of them smile. 

Sam wasn’t the greatest singer, but he knew enough that he could make a decent rendition of the song. 

_ But my dreams they aren’t as empty _

_ As my conscience seems to be _

_ I have hours only lonely _

_ My love is vengeance that is never free _

Sam was bringing to mind all the times Lucifer had been the sweetest and most understanding husband there was in existence, and how that still persevered into today’s explosion of emotions that he normally kept so well hidden. 

Lucifer nestled into Sam’s arms in the prison transport and tried to focus on the beat of Sam’s heart and the way his voice sounded when he sang their wedding song. 

_ No one bites back as hard _

_ On their hand _

_ None of the pain and woe _

_ Can show through _

_ But my dreams aren’t as empty  _

_ As my conscience seems to be _

Sam smiled and ran his fingers through Lucifer’s hair soothingly and Lucifer found his voice to sing the last verse. 

_ And if I swallow anything evil _

_ Put your finger in my throat _

_ And if I shiver, please give me a blanket _

_ Keep me warm, let me wear your coat.  _

They finished out the song together and as Lucifer’s throat closed around the last note, Sam’s lips sealed his in a chaste, comforting kiss. 

“I love you.” Sam whispered into the kiss.

“How much?” 

“I’d murder for you.”

Lucifer gave a smile against Sam’s lips. “Baby, I’d murder  _ with  _ you.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Verdict

“The jury has reached a decision.” 

The entire courtroom rose, and Lucifer grabbed Sam’s hand, both of them closing their eyes and praying for the first time in a long time. Neither of them were religious, but they wanted to at least get life, and not get the death penalty. The likelihood of them actually getting that were slim to none, but they could pray. 

The foreman of the jury cleared his throat and looked at the judge. Sam’s nails dug into the back of Lucifer’s hand. 

“We the Jury find Colonel Lucifer Dantes Winchester guilty of fifty counts of murder in the first, kidnapping, and torture and recommend the death penalty.” 

Lucifer’s shoulders slumped. There was still hope for Sam, although even he had a shred of doubt on that. Sam had been vilified by the press and as he used to say, “A trial by the press is one you can’t appeal.”

“We the Jury find Doctor Samuel Lewis Winchester guilty of fifty counts of murder in the first, kidnapping, and torture, and recommend the death penalty.” 

A broken sob left Lucifer’s throat and Sam held onto Lucifer’s hand tighter as the judge agreed with the jury’s decision and sentenced them both to death. 

The gavel banged loudly in the courtroom and everyone began filing out. Alastair and Lilith walked beside their clients, telling them that they’ll appeal, don’t worry, they’ll get them at least twenty to life. 

Once they exited the courthouse, reporters and cameras physically assaulted the now two convicted murderers and asked them questions. Lucifer, still not over his mental breakdown from the other night, whined and hid while Sam kept his husband as close as he could, simply stating “decline to comment” as he quickly ushered them to the prison transport. 

Once they were in the safety of the van, Lucifer broke down and wailed. Clutching his husband’s suit, he sobbed and begged for Sam’s forgiveness. 

Sam just sat there and ran his fingers through Lucifer’s short blond hair, murmuring soft words of encouragement and hope. He rubbed his husband’s back, snarling as a guard looked at them funny. 

“What?” he snapped. “Can’t a grown man comfort his husband?” 

“Aren’t. . . aren’t you two supposed to be apart?” Clearly, it was this man’s first day with Sam and Lucifer as his transport detail and one of the older guards came over before Sam abandoned his husband and committed murder number fifty one. 

“Son, if you separate them, they go into hysterics and right now, they’ve suffered an upsetting loss. You’re lucky the doctor is more focused on comforting his husband rather than plotting your murder.” 

Sam gave the man a semi-grateful look. Giving another snarl and curled lip at the rookie, just to see the other man squirm, he returned to his husband, pulling the former Marine onto his lap and rocking him as Lucifer cried into his neck and suit, still handcuffed together. 

Lucifer sniffled as the van started up and began rolling back to the prison, now carrying two death row inmates. 

Frankly, he was more upset that Sam was going to die than he was. As a former Marine, he had been expecting to be killed at any moment from the time he was eighteen years old. Death was almost welcome. 

But Sam. . . his sweet, precious husband. Sure, he did most of the murdering and the killing- Lucifer often just picked out the victims (knowingly or unknowingly) and did body disposal- but he was the one, he felt, who egged Sam on. When Sam started wanting to kill John for what he did, Lucifer encouraged him, helped him plan. He held Sam as his husband broke down sobbing upon hearing that a bar fight is what did the older Winchester in and commiserated with him at the loss of opportunity. When both he and Sam were insulted and there was rage pounding beneath his lover’s skin, he quietly told Sam that they were going to make the man pay. 

They both snapped, and snapped in horrific ways, but to Lucifer, Sam was always the more innocent, the sweeter of the duo. With his sunshine smile and friendly disposition, it wasn’t hard to see how Lucifer still thought of his husband as an innocent, albeit kinky, man. 

Many people would later say that Lucifer’s always looked at Sam like that, like he was the most innocent person in the world. 

Some people speculate that Lucifer still sees the young boy who became best friends with Castiel before Dean entered the picture, before shyly going to play with the “big kids”. He, Lucifer, and Gabriel were almost inseparable, up until Gabriel left for college and Lucifer joined the Marines. 

To a point, they were correct. Lucifer always saw a bit of the shy, scrawny boy who shuffled his feet, who had to grow into his height. He always saw the shy fourteen year old who, the day before Lucifer had left for boot camp, had softly pecked the older man's cheek and whispered a quiet confession into his ear. 

Lucifer still saw the confident young man he'd found in the almost new Winchester Medical practice upon his return home from war. The man who had asked him on their first date boldly, who had initiated their first  _ proper  _ kiss, who had taken the Marine’s breath away when he'd all but growled “Fuck Me, Lucifer”, for the first time.

Lucifer saw the  _ good  _ in Sam Winchester, and now no one else would, because he, Lucifer, had changed Sam into a killer with no conscience, or so it seemed. 

Sam was also thinking how unfair it was for Lucifer to be heading towards the same fate that he was. He knew that Lucifer should’ve died on the battlefield; or better yet, of old age, with Sam holding his hand and whispering soft praises to him. 

Most people saw Lucifer as the true evil of the duo, but really, it was Sam. Sam was the one who selected victims. Sam was the one who often wielded the devices of torture. Sam was the one who killed. Sam was the one who hacked the bodies apart so that they could fit in the freezers. Lucifer often just helped and teased Sam. 

His war hero of a husband didn’t deserve this fate. 

Sam’s husband didn’t deserve to die. The man who, besides Gabriel, looked out for him. The man who held him close at night, who sympathized and empathized with him. The man who, while maybe hardly ever saying the words “I love you” let Sam know that he  _ did  _ love him. It was voiced in the way Lucifer called Sam once he was done working in the garden. In was whispered in way he touched Sam so gently when the younger man needed a gentle touch to make his inner demons go away. It was sung in the way he crooned their songs when Sam needed to be calmed down for a bit. It was shouted in the way that he  _ willingly  _ engages in bloodplay so that Sam could relax completely in between kills. The nicknames. The warmth and trust in normally distrusting eyes whenever Lucifer looked at Sam. 

It was promised in the way that Lucifer swore at the altar that he would never lie to him, and would never hurt him. That he would always ask for Sam’s consent, and that he would never abuse the trust and love Sam gave to him. 

Lucifer loved Sam, and told him so a hundred times a day even if the words never passed his lips. 


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in prison leads to a fight.

Seven A.M. Roll call. 

Sam and Lucifer find themselves next to each other, like they do every morning. Sam’s fingers linked with Lucifer’s, and they squeeze each other’s hands before they fell apart as Warden Turner counted them present. 

Seven thirty A.M. Breakfast

They found themselves at the same table, sitting next to each other as they ate the eggs and toast and drank the horrid coffee that they had made. Soft touches, gentle glances. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

By eight they were in Lucifer’s cell, curled up with the newspaper and books, maybe writing to Dean and Gabriel as they acted like this was a normal morning, that they were still at home and maybe it was Saturday morning, when Sam didn’t have to go into the practice until the afternoon and Lucifer just opted to have a lazy morning in bed. They were constantly touching- legs tangled together, lingering fingers, brushed on kisses- the little things that showed exactly how comfortable and in love with each other they are. 

Noon heralded lunch, and they sat closer to each other, held hands under the table. Ate like everyone else. 

Everyone knew, however, that today was new inmate day, and they usually started showing up at lunch. 

They watched the couple carefully, saw how Lucifer tugged Sam closer to him protectively, kissed his cheek, tried to keep his hotheaded husband calm. 

They all knew that it was Sam was the one with the temper, the one who didn’t take the insults well, the one who would rather die than let a slight go unpunished. Especially if the insult was aimed at Lucifer. 

The air was tense when the new arrivals came in and began eating. Some of them looked over at the duo before shrugging and going to their food. Others merely raised an eyebrow before returning to their food and companionship, obviously deeming them not worthy of a fight. 

There were three, however, that began taunting them. Lucifer spoke back calmly, succinctly, even as he held his husband close and rubbed his back, trying to keep him calm and level headed. Sam bowed his head and clenched his fists and willed himself to not start a fight, to not start a fight. 

It was around three and out in the exercise yard that the fight began. 

“Yo! Fags! How’d you select each other, anyway?” One of them shouted from a park bench. “Did the Giant just like bend Blondie over and just ram him and that’s how it was?” 

Sam clenched his fists. “Luce-”

“I know, baby, but you got to keep calm. You know neither of us function well when you’re in solitary,” Lucifer soothed. To the trio on the park bench, he simply said, “My husband and I have been together for seven and a half years, and we haven’t been in prison for that length of time. Please stop making assumptions.” 

“Ooohhh ho! Blondie’s in charge, I guess. Whatcha in for, anyways, exhibitioning and shit?” The youngest of the three said. 

“Murder, kidnapping, torture. ..” Lucifer shrugged. “We’re death row, so it’s not like we give two shits. Let me guess. . . kidnapping, torture, rape of a girl? Hmm. . . Not statutory, but she  _ was  _ under the age of 18, so most likely 16.” He tsked. 

The trios’ jaws dropped. “How. . .?” the youngest asked. 

Lucifer flashed a smile. “I can spot a rapist from a hundred yards away,” he said sweetly. 

“At least we’re fuckin’ women! Fuckin’ men ain’t right, musta been dropped on your heads as children,” the oldest and the ring leader grunted. “Or else there’s somethin’ else wrongs with ya.” 

“Oh, there’s  _ plenty  _ wrong. And please, stop talking.” Lucifer was struggling now to keep Sam to him. “ _ Dammit, Sam, no! _ ” He could feel Sam’s elbow strike his bad hip and he hissed. “ _ Sam. Stop!” _

Nothing was getting through his rage fueled husband. 

“Oh why? So you don’t set your pitbull on us?” the ringleader grunted. “Like that mongrel could do anything to us. We’re three people. He’s one.” 

Another elbow strike, this time to his kidneys, made Lucifer’s grip slip and suddenly Sam was running towards them. 

“Goddammit,” Lucifer swore as he limped towards the doctor. “SAM! NO!” 

It was too late. 

The other two had scrambled out of the way as Sam snarled and launched himself at the ringleader and began fighting him, punching him with deadly precision, expertly avoiding and blocking punches and kicks. Dust got kicked up around the duo, other prisoners crowded around the fight scene, wjooping and hollering in delight, and Lucifer lost sight of Sam, despite trying to get to the fight to break it up.  

The dust cleared after five minutes, revealing the ringleader being knocked out and a bloody and beaten Sam. 

Lucifer hobbled his way over to Sam and gently ran a hand over his husband’s hair. 

“Luci. . . I tried,” he whimpered. “I tried to hold it in, tried to let it roll off my back but I  _ couldn’  _ it’s been too long ‘m sorry, ‘m so sorry.” 

“Shh, sweetheart, I know,” Lucifer soothed, kneeling down and stroking his cheek. “I know, andhthey were saying really hurtful things. I don’t blame you. Listen, baby, I’m not mad at you. Just going to be lonely while you’re in isolation.” 

“I don’t get why  _ they  _ don’t get to go to solitary and yet  _ I  _ do,” Sam mumbled, using the sleeve of his prison orange shirt to wipe his tears and blood away. 

“Neither do I, but I need my man to be strong for me, okay?” Lucifer soothed, placing a gentle, chaste kiss on his lips. 

“Love you,” Sam whispered as the guards came into the yard to take the ring leader to the infirmary and Sam to isolation. 

“How much?” Lucifer asked with a soft smile. 

“Enough to murder for you.” 

The guards were tugging the couple apart, one simply resting a hand on Lucifer’s shoulders while Sam was pushed down onto the ground and cuffed. 

“Baby, I’d murder  _ with  _ you,” Lucifer said. 

“Right. Doctor Winchester, couldn’t you learn  _ not  _ to fight?” the guard sighed. “Two days of solitary for you.” 

The guard not taking the new inmate away or taking Sam to isolation squeezed Lucifer’s shoulder as the former Marine watched his husband be carried away. “You gonna be okay there, Colonel?” he asked. 

Lucifer nodded and drew in a deep breath. “Yeah. I did try to stop him. He got my bad hip.” 

The guard nodded sympathetically. “Right.” 

Six o’clock, dinner. Lucifer sat without Sam and poked at his food, eating only small morsels of the meal. Everyone knew to keep their distance. 

Over in isolation, Sam also picked at his food. His eye throbbed and his heart ached. The padded walls provided only a mild comfort. 

Eight o’clock. In his cell, Lucifer wrote the day’s events in the journal he was allowed to keep before pulling out another journal and began to write the novel he had been working on a little bit.

_ Dantes cupped the back of Lewis’ head, eyes warm. “I know you’re upset, Lewis,” he whispered. “But you have to stay strong for me. For us. For what we stand for.”  _

_ Lewis nodded and rested his head on Dantes’ shoulder. “I know.”  _

Over in solitary, Sam closed his eyes and waited for sleep to come for him. Curled up on his side, he pretended that Lucifer was holding him close, whispering soothing, comforting words in his ear, easing his guilty heart. 

Ten o’clock. Lights out. Lucifer was singing softly, like his custom was every night since he arrived at prison. Sitting up in his cot, his back against the wall, he sang to his husband, even though that the cell on the opposite side of the wall was empty. 

The guard came by with a cup of water and his sleeping pills. “Winchester? I know you don’t want to take them, but you have to.” His tone was sympathetic. 

Sighing, Lucifer got up and hobbled over to the guard. Taking the water first, he swallowed one sleeping pill, refusing the second. “I only want one tonight,” he murmured. 

The guard nodded and waited until Lucifer drained the cup. “Get some sleep, Winchester. Morning comes bright and early.” 

Lucifer grimaced and gave a curt nod, limping back to his cot. Pulling his covers up and around him, he held an old shirt of Sam’s up to his face. Breathing deeply, he allowed himself to go into a light sleep. The single pill he had taken would keep the flashbacks of the war away, but he’d stay alert enough. 

Sam laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling, willing himself to hear his husband’s singing before sighing and turning on his side, curling up under the thin blanket on his cot. Sighing, he began softly singing the words to the song he knew his husband was singing. 

_ There’s a lady who swears all that glitters is gold; and she’s buying a stairway to heaven.  _


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first appeal

They stood in the courtroom once again, Alastair and Lilith flanking them. They were cuffed, sure, but they didn’t mind that, as long as they were together and could hold hands. 

Alastair began presenting the facts of their first appeal, the insanity defense. 

“Dr. Sam Winchester has two specified paraphilic disorders, borderline personality disorder and has parent-child relational problems and sibling relational problems, and could be considered an adult anti-social,” he said smoothly. 

“Remind the court what those two specified paraphilic disorders are,” Judge Turner sighed. 

“Dr. Winchester has hematolagnia, bordering on Renfield’s Syndrome, and- “

“What is hematolagnia?” 

“The arousal one gets from the sight of blood or from playing sexually with it. Dr. Winchester has taken to drinking blood from his husband’s wrist during intercourse.”

“Proceed.” 

“The other paraphilic disorder is erotophonophilia, which is sexual arousal caused from either watching or performing a murder, very similar to cases such as John Wayne Gacy, Jeffrey Dahmer, and Ted Bundy.”

“And for Colonel Winchester?”

“Colonel Lucifer Winchester was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder upon his return home from Iraq, which was his fourth tour overseas and was a double tour. Frankly, he should have been diagnosed earlier. Post traumatic stress disorder is common among veterans, unfortunately, and Colonel Winchester  _ was  _ shot in the line of duty. He has to use an antidepressant, an antipsychotic, and a barbitute. Symptoms of PTSD include irrational anger and flashbacks to the traumatic event. It is possible, therefore, for Colonel Winchester to be triggered into a psychotic episode simply by being insulted, or having his husband insulted.” Alastair smoothed out his tie cleanly as Lilith stepped in. 

“Colonel Lucifer, of course, took measures to make sure he wouldn’t be triggered, referring to himself as a ‘stay at home husband’ and that was fine with the community. Dr. Winchester has also shown signs of the same disorder, from the time his father beat him to within an inch of life and then kicked him out of the house for his sexuality,” she said with a small smile. “This could have also triggered the behavior.” 

“We recommend that Dr. and Colonel Winchester be declared mentally unstable and taken to a psychiatric facility for rehabilitation and possible reintroduction to society, preferably away from this area,” Alastair said. 

Judge Turner turned her eye upon the two convicted serial killers. “Boys? You got anything to say for yourselves?”

Lucifer stood up. “Your Honor, I have no issue with what my lawyers are suggesting. Prior to capture, my husband and I were considering moving off the grid and living on our own, away from people,” he admitted. “We were going to retire and live off the land and not bother anyone else ever again.” 

“And how, outside of prison or a psychiatric facility, would you control your husband’s paraphilic desires?” Judge Turner asked. 

“The sight of my own blood is enough to arouse my husband,” Lucifer explained. “Therefore, his hematolagnia would be taken care of. Living off the land as well would help- have you ever gutted a deer? Blood gets everywhere. He would be fine on that score.” He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “The erotophonophilia would be trickier to manage but I believe with some role play and role reversal in our usual bedroom roles, with perhaps some videos off of avant-garde pornography sites, would help him keep it under control.” 

The judge sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I don’t deny that you’d be able to keep Sam under control if you two were far away from most civilization,” he admitted. “But I also have to consider this. You boys could be faking this, and could easily fake rehabilitation. How do I know that you boys wouldn’t go right back to killing?” 

Lucifer spread his hands expansively. “Kind of hard to kill someone if you don’t live near civilization,” he pointed out. “And if you’re worried about how we’d earn an income while living out in the wilderness, Sam and I built up a nice little nest egg over the past seven and half, almost eight years. I’m fairly confident we could live rather comfortably for the next five to ten years.” 

Judge Turner raised an eyebrow. “And you honestly expect me to believe you?” 

Lucifer gave him his sweetest smile. The one that said  _ it’s okay, I’m a literal angel sent from Heaven, I can’t lie.  _ “Your Honor, have I  _ ever  _ lied to you?” 

“I don’t know, a six month manhunt across the country says yes,” the judge said dryly. 

Lucifer smiled. “That wasn’t so much a lie as just. . . avoiding the question. Two different scenarios.”

Sam raised a brow and shook his head slightly in amusement. 

“Very funny, Colonel.” 

He winked. “I try. But seriously. I mean it.” 

“I’m sorry, Colonel Winchester.” Judge Turner sounded concerned. “The fact is, you and Sam are both highly intelligent and could have done your research to come up with this idea and you’re also both highly intelligent to the point where you could fake rehabilitation and go straight back to killing after you were released.” 

“You’re going based off the idea that those who are insane don’t know that they’re insane,” Lucifer argued. “That is completely false. It depends on level of intelligence.”

“I get where you’re coming from, I really do, but I cannot take that risk.” 

“Life imprisonment, then,” Lucifer gambled. He felt Sam’s broad hand smack his ass but he kept his face blank. “Death row is too controversial for two people who are  _ mentally ill  _ and have been diagnosed as such.” 

“You killed  _ fifty  _ people in  _ six  _ years, Colonel,” Judge Turner pointed out. 

Lucifer took a deep breath in and let it out. “I’ve been an accomplice and an accessory more often than the murderer itself,” he said calmly. “I would say out of the fifty kills my husband and I have done, I only did maybe ten of them.” 

Sam nodded in agreement. 

“I’m not saying I’m sorry for killing them, because I am not,” Lucifer continued. “They were cruel, capricious, and bigoted. Tell me, your Honor, when was the last time someone told you that you should be locked up because you raped female Afghani prisoners of war or helpless Iraqi refugees? When was the last time you got screamed at because you were saluting instead of putting your right hand over your heart during the national anthem? When was the last time you got told ‘you deserved to be shot. Shame it didn’t kill you’?” 

The courtroom is silent. 

“I’m sure you could understand the homophobia thing, even if you’re not a member of the community,” Lucifer went on further to explain. “I’ve heard some of the threats Judge Jody Mills and Sheriff Donna Hanscum have gotten. But they also had the fortune of having both of their families approving of the union and for whatever reason, female/female couples are more accepted than male/male couples. So put yourself in Sam’s and my shoes for a minute. Walk for a day in them. And see how we could’ve easily turned to murdering fifty people. I know that they could have killed some of the homophobes they came across. The only difference between them and us? They didn’t do anything about it.  _ We  _ did.”

The courtroom was even more silent as Lucifer sat down and held Sam’s hand, resting his head against his shoulder as Sam ran fingers through his husband’s blond hair, cut fresh that morning into a high and tight. 

“Please rise,” Judge Turner finally said, and everyone stood up.    
“I’ve considered the words of the defendant. I know how he and his husband must feel on many levels, and how they could have been driven to this. However, I have to take a look at the idea that this may be nothing but a scam to get free, and for that reason, the original verdict still stands. Court dismissed.”

The gavel banged and Sam lead Lucifer out of the courtroom. Both men had tears in their eyes, but it was Lucifer- the strong, silent, essentially perfect Marine- who buried his nose into Sam’s neck and sobbed the entire way back to the prison. 

If one listened closely, they could hear Sam crooning “Behind Blue Eyes” in soft, dulcet tones to Lucifer as the former Marine finally let go of his stoicness and cried properly about their predicament.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conjugal visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More blood play

Lucifer pinned Sam down to the mattress, rutting against him in the prison orange jumpsuits. The younger man moaned and rocked his hips back up and into the older man’s, trying to find that perfect angle. 

“Fuck, Luce,” Sam moaned, burying his face into the pillow underneath of him. “Need it, need it so bad.” 

“I know baby. Trust me, I know,” Lucifer panted, shoving the pants down and underneath the curve of Sam’s rear, giving it a smack. Sam keened and rocked his hips back. 

“Patience, love.” 

“I’ve been  _ more than patient _ .” Sam snarled. “Just give it to me, Lucifer!” 

“Bossy, bossy,” Lucifer mocked, leaning over to bite down on Sam’s ear and he tugged on it, eliciting a whine from the doctor underneath of him. “If we weren’t in a prison cell and I wasn’t worried about an exhibition display, I’d fucking turn that ass red for snarling at me,” he hissed into his ear. “I suggest you remember this, because I  _ will  _ make it happen if you sass me again, whether you’re on display or not. Do you understand?” 

“Yes,  _ please,  _ ‘m sorry,” Sam whined. “Please, it’s been too long.” 

“Shh, my King,” Lucifer breathed, placing a gentle kiss below Sam’s ear. “I know, baby, I got you. I’ll always take care of you.” 

He drew back and found the KY Jelly he had sneaked from the infirmary earlier that day and coated his fingers in it, running a calming hand down Sam’s back. 

Sam was tight, tighter than usual, Lucifer found out as he circled a finger lazily around Sam’s clenching hole, trying to get him calm enough so that he could slide right in. The entire time, he spoke filthy praises into Sam’s ear, taunting him and teasing him while the doctor writhed underneath of him. Two fingers slid in, and Sam gasped and arched his back at the slight burn that that had given him. 

“It’s been so long since I actually prepped you,” Lucifer breathed hotly, nibbling along Sam’s neck. The younger man tilted his head out of the way, gasping softly as the Marine’s teeth and lips closed over his pressure point and sucked on it viciously as his fingers slowly but surely stretched him open. 

“Luci, please, I’m ready, ready for it all, I need it, Luci  _ please! _ ” Sam begged, rocking his hips back onto Lucifer’s scissoring fingers. 

“Want to feel the burn, baby?” Lucifer breathed. 

“Yes, please, please,” Sam babbled. 

Lucifer slowly withdrew from Sam and straightened. He shoved his pants and boxers down to his knees and slicked up his cock. Fumbling in his bedsheets, he found the clean pipe he had fashioned to a sharp point. 

“Luci-”

Sam never got to finish his plea before Lucifer started sinking into Sam, nice and slow, stopping to let his husband adjust after so long without having it. 

“ _ Dammit  _ Lucifer, I’m not gonna break!” Sam whined, crying out when Lucifer’s broad hand came down on his ass. 

“What did I tell you about sassing me?” Lucifer asked conversationally, rocking his hips so that another two inches slid into Sam. 

“‘M sorry, feels so good, want it so bad,” the doctor underneath of him whimpered, sighing in happiness as Lucifer’s groin rubbed up against his ass, signalling that he had bottomed out. 

“I know, baby, I know,” Lucifer soothed, rubbing calming circles into Sam’s hips as he rolled his own, not really moving in and out of his husband yet. “Just a few moments longer, can you do that for me? Don’t want to hurt you.” 

Sam whimpered and nodded. 

When Lucifer did start moving his hips, it was slow and gentle and completely without Lucifer’s hands or body to stabilize him. 

“Luci.. . .”   
“Shh, I know, my King,” Lucifer soothed, rubbing a hand up and down Sam’s back. “I know.” Grabbing the pipe he steadily made a cut in his wrist. Blood seeped out and he leaned over Sam, holding his arm in a way that the blood wouldn’t drip onto Sam’s bed. “Present for my King,” he crooned as he rocked his hips more firmly into Sam’s. 

The doctor didn’t hesitate, grabbing Lucifer’s arm and sealing his lips over the wound, rocking his hips back eagerly as he sucked and licked at the wound. 

“That’s it, that’s it my King,” Lucifer breathed, kissing and biting marks into Sam’s skin. “There you go, feel better?” 

His answer was a whine from his husband and an increase in pace. 

The Marine groaned and colored Sam’s neck with love bites colored in red and purple, occasionally coming close to drawing blood, whispering how good Sam was for him, how sorry he was for keeping him waiting, anything to spur Sam on. The doctor, for his part, was fucking himself back onto Lucifer’s cock as he sucked the blood greedily from his wrist, making sure that not a drop was left. 

“WHAT IN THE NAME OF GOD’S CREATION IS GOING ON HERE?!” 

Lucifer turned his head to look at Warden Turner and gave a winning smile before groaning at the way Sam’s hole tightened around his dick. “Marital activities, Sir,” he explained, running a hand through Sam’s hair. “Honestly, what did you expect when we asked for a conjugal visit, us to make cupcakes and braid hair?” 

Sam huffed a laugh against Lucifer’s wrist, moaning and giving a soft whine. 

“Are you close, baby?” Lucifer asked, ignoring the warden as he focused on his lover. “Are you close to having me fill that tight ass of yours and have my cum drip down your thighs?” 

Sam whined and whimpered, sucking harder. 

“Cum for me, my King.” 

Sam came with a cry, spilling onto the towel that he had placed there for this reason. He released Lucifer’s wrist and laid his head on his husband’s shoulder. 

Lucifer grunted and lasted one more thrust into Sam before he came, groaning and filling Sam up. 

“Winchester.” 

“Which one?” Sam asked with a cum-drunk smile, floating high on the endorphins of good sex and blood drinking.

“Colonel.” 

‘Mmm, yes Sir?” Lucifer hummed, slowly withdrawing from Sam’s hole. 

“Could you come with me to the infirmary, please? You’re bleeding.” 

Lucifer looked at his wrist as though seeing it for the first time. It was already starting to bruise around the cut he had made, as well as having extra holes from where Sam had bit down to draw more blood into his mouth. “Oh. I am.” 

Sam leaned forward and gave a lick to Lucifer’s wrist. “It’s sweeter than normal,” he moaned. 

“That’s probably because you haven’t had some in a while,” Lucifer teased, laying Sam down on his side. “I’ll be back, my King.” 

“Love you, Luce.” 

“How much?”

“Enough to murder for you.” 

“Baby, I’d murder  _ with  _ you.” Smiling, Lucifer brushed his lips against his husband’s forehead before exiting the cell and walking with the warden to the infirmary. 

“Is that normal for you two?” The warden asked after a few minutes of walking in silence.

“It helps keep him calm,” Lucifer said. “I don’t do it unless it’s needed.”

The warden nodded as they entered the infirmary and got Lucifer’s wrist bandaged. 

“I. . . I don’t mean to pry, but did he. . .”

“Did my husband really drink the blood of his victims?” Lucifer finished the question. “No. He only drinks mine. I don’t know where our victims have been or what they may’ve had. I get myself tested every six months just in case something were to happen. It helps keep him calm, and besides, it’s a good adrenaline rush.” 

They arrived back at their cells and the Warden unlocked Sam’s so that they could finish out this conjugal visit. Lucifer bade him good night and took his sleeping medication before crawling into bed with his husband. 

Sam was already asleep, but easily snuggled into the warmth that was his husband. Lucifer smiled and brushed a kiss across Sam’s forehead tenderly, humming “Stairway to Heaven” as he, too, fell asleep. 


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second Appeal

The time for the second appeal came and Lucifer looked at his lawyer. “Think I can pull what we talked about off?” he whispered. 

“Does Sam know?” Alastair murmured to his client. 

Lucifer shook his head. “No.” 

“It might, as long as Sam shuts up.” Alastair squeezed Lucifer’s shoulder. 

“All rise for Justice Ellen Harvelle-Singer!” 

The courtroom stood up and when Ellen took the stand, everyone sat back down. 

“I understand that there’s been a change of heart of some sort?” she said, looking at them. 

Sam furrowed his brow in confusion as Lucifer stood up. 

“Yes, your Honor. Your Honor, I was not entirely truthful at my trial or my first appeal. I would like to state, for the record, that I coerced my husband, Samuel Winchester, M.D., to torture and kill with me. It broke my heart, but he walked in on me committing a murder one day and as a result I forced him to kill the next several people.” Lucifer’s voice was contrite and he bowed his head. “I am utterly ashamed that I had done so, and I had also forced him to say that he was a willing partner. I understand that this means I will be charged with perjury, but that’s the price I’m willing to pay in order to at the very least reduce my husband’s sentence.” 

Sam remained quiet, but Lucifer could tell that his husband was going to punch him, whether or not Ellen believed it. 

“Colonel Winchester, I admire that you are trying to be honorable and keep your husband safe, and I’ve always admired the way you look after Dr. Winchester as I followed your case,” Ellen said, taking off her glasses and looking at the two. “Even when you two were children, this was happening. But Colonel, the evidence against Dr. Winchester is too damning, and I have the records of how his temper can get. I do not buy your current line of defense, as noble as it is. Dr. Winchester, do you have anything to add before I give my final decision?” 

Sam stood up and smoothed his hair back as he looked at Ellen. “I would like to add that I felt like my husband and I did a service to ourselves and to society. I have no clue where my husband got this idea, but I do not feel any remorse for what I did. If I did, it’s only because I got caught.” 

Lucifer closed his eyes. Of  _ course _ Sam would say something along those lines. 

“I’d ask you to stand, but you both already are. I’m rejecting your appeal for a lesser sentence and I announce you two still death row inmates.” 

Lucifer swore and buried his head in his hands. His last chance to save his husband was gone, because they agreed on only two appeals. 

“Dismissed.” Ellen slammed the gavel down on the pound and the two of them were lead out of the courthouse. 

Once they were outside, Sam slapped Lucifer across the face and shook him. “You fucking idiot! You knew that there was no way that they’d believe you forced me to do this! There’s too much evidence suggesting that if anything, I would’ve forced you!” He glared at his husband “What were you thinking?”

“I destroyed your life!” Lucifer shouted. “I took something of yours and made it horrible! You’re going to DIE because of me! If I had only been able to keep my cool, none of this would’ve happened! You may not have been able to practice medicine legally again, but at least you would’ve been out of prison and living your life!” Tears sprang to his eyes as he broke down and shook his head. “I just wanted to protect you and make your life not as horrible as I made it. I’m so sorry.” 

Sam sighed and pinched his temples. “Luci, baby,” he sighed. “Come here.” 

Lucifer shuffled over to Sam. Sam sighed and tilted Lucifer’s head up. 

“I destroyed my life, Lucifer. Not you. You made a mistake, and yes, we’re paying for it, but Lucifer, we’re together, we’re still here. I love you, and I did this to myself as much as you did it to yourself.” He wraps his husband up in his arms. “I love you and as much as I love you trying to protect me, I’m to blame as well.” He kissed his temple. “You’re such a fucking sap sometimes.” 

“Shut up.” Lucifer said gruffly, even as he clung to Sam. 

Sam chuckled and ran his fingers through Lucifer’s short blond hair. “Yes, dear.” 

The guards looked at each other. From afar, the two murderers in their charge looked like a normal couple, with one consoling the other one. But up close, they know what these two can do. They’ve seen the doctor charge into fights and nearly kill other inmates for calling them faggots and other homophobic slurs, only to be stopped by the Marine. They’ve seen the crime scenes that these boys have made, the bodies that will never be found.

Colonel Winchester has their respect. Colonel Winchester was a Marine, and a damned good one. He doesn’t fight often, but when he does, it’s quick and only to the point of knocking them out, usually someone who bashes on veterans. 

Doctor Winchester has their fear. Doctor Winchester they wouldn’t want to meet on a cold dark night in an unlit alley. He has unparalleled fury whenever someone disses him and his husband, and they’ve heard the things he shouted. They’ve heard the man scream what he wants to do to whomever he’s beating up. He’s been in solitary a few times, whereas the Colonel only went into solitary once. 

“You know, if you didn’t know better-”

“I know, they could pass for normal. Hell, they look so normal.” 

They watched the doctor straighten the Colonel’s tie while talking quietly. 

“Is this why it’s hard to catch people like them? ‘Cause they look and act so normal?”

The older guard nodded. “That’s it exactly. They look and act so normal but underneath, they’re monsters.” Louder, he spoke to his two prisoners. “Ready to head back, boys?” 

They nodded, taking each other’s hand. The guards long ago learned that if they aren’t holding hands, chaos ensues. So the older guard simply handcuffed them to each other, around their linked hands. “Let’s get you boys back into your cages.” 

Lucifer stiffened at the word but Sam calmed him down quickly and quietly. 

And that, the younger guard decided, was the creepiest thing he had ever seen. No talking was needed. Just a slight tense to the Marine’s shoulders, and the doctor saw, squeezed his hand, and kissed his cheek, and the tension ebbed away in a matter of seconds. 


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Lucifer plan their deaths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talk of suicide. Skip if squicks

Sam wrapped his arms around his husband and sighed. “We’re gonna die, Luci.” 

Lucifer nodded, resting his head on Sam’s shoulders. “Yeah. We’re going to go by lethal injection. Actually doesn’t sound too bad.” 

Sam snorted. “Are you kidding? Your medications are going to fuck up with the meds they give you for that shit, and you know what the lethal injection does?” 

Lucifer shook his head. 

“It creates a heart attack. You basically die of a fucking heart attack.” 

“And they call that humane?” The loathing in Lucifer’s voice was palpable. “It’d be kinder to shoot us between the eyes.” 

“It would be,” Sam agreed, kissing the spot Lucifer just mentioned. “But they say it’s more humane. I have no clue how.” 

“Could we get the firing squad? I know Utah is slowly reimplementing it,” Lucifer remarked. 

Sam shook his head. “Lethal injection here only. Which fucking sucks.” 

“So what do we do?” Lucifer asked softly. He didn’t want his death to be painful. He wanted a nice peaceful death with Sam by his side. 

Sam remained silent. 

“Sam?” 

“I can steal your sleeping pills out of the infirmary one day,” he admitted softly, hugging Lucifer close. “I can get special permission from the warden for an all night conjugal visit. Physician assisted suicide. You can get the peaceful death you want.” 

“And what about you, Doctor?” Lucifer asked, turning in Sam’s arms to look up at his husband. 

Sam gave a tender smile. “I’ll wait. I’ll wait until it’s my turn and go onto the table, get killed by the State.” 

“Oh no. Oh HELL no.” Lucifer frowned and glared into his husband’s eyes. 

“The chances of me having a botched execution are slimmer, and I’ll probably be killed quicker. Once they find out what I did, that’s another murder for me on my rap sheet. They’ll put me in solitary for a little while and probably a few months after that I’ll be killed. It’s okay baby.” 

“No, it’s NOT okay!” Lucifer insisted, wishing that he could slap his husband. “Sam, you don’t get to spare me from that fate and go into it yourself. No. You think I’m gonna let you have a heart attack while you’re under anesthetic if you won’t let me do the same? Oh Hell no. Also, like HELL I’m letting you die alone! You KNOW that Dean won’t show up to the execution, not to mention that if he even did, the prison would throw him in for public intoxication. No. You’re not dying alone. You’re not dying by some medical farce and you’re not dying alone!” He gripped his husband’s jaw tightly, forcing green turning into hazel eyes to stare into ice blue. 

Sam’s eyes widened and he rested a hand on the wrist that was gripping his jaw. “Luci. . .” 

“I can’t let you die alone, Sam,” Lucifer whispered. “Both of us. Together.” 

Sam’s eyes watered and he slowly nodded. “Think. . . think we can pull it off?” 

Lucifer nodded. “Yes, we can. If we can pull off fifty murders, we can pull this off. And I know just the day.” 

“Is it in two weeks?” Sam breathed. 

Lucifer nodded with a smile. 

“Sentimental fool,” Sam teased, leaning in for a kiss. 

“You approve.” Lucifer chuckled. 

“I’ll get that permission. That day just makes it easier for it to be granted.” 

“Indeed.” 

They kissed, slow and sweet at first, Lucifer still holding onto Sam’s jaw as tongues slid along bottom lips. It slowly turned heated, with teeth and biting and a groan from one of them. 

They moved quickly and soon enough, Lucifer was pinning Sam down to the cot, rolling his hips firmly against the other man’s. 

Sam groaned and looked up at his husband heatedly. “Need you,” he groaned, rocking his hips up and into Lucifer’s. 

Lucifer growled and leaned in to mark Sam’s neck. “Quiet.” 

Sam fell silent as his husband claimed him once more. 


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer and Sam celebrate their anniversary

It was always a difficult morning whenever Lucifer had to get his cortisone shot at the hospital. The one time someone other than Sam did it, Lucifer nearly ended up in solitary. 

Now, it was a bit easier, Lucifer looking up adoringly at his husband as Sam slowly withdrew the medicine from it’s container, his prison orange jumpsuit pulled down enough to expose his sharp hip joint and the scarring from that. 

“Not every day that I get to see you at my mercy,” Sam teased, their usual ritual for when this happens. 

Lucifer chuckled. “You’ll be at my mercy soon enough, babe,” he murmured back. 

The guards rolled their eyes but remained silent. They knew that this was normal for them and also knew that any amount of persuasion to not act like a lovesick couple would result in a highly pissed off doctor, and right now, the doctor had a needle. They learned a long time ago to not piss off the doctor when he had a needle.

Sam reached out with one hand and Lucifer took it, holding onto it to help ground himself as the needle pricked his skin and started pushing the pain relief into his hip, crying out in pain. 

“I know baby, I know,” Sam murmured soothingly. “You’re doing good, angel, oh so good. It’s going to feel okay in no time, baby.” 

“It  _ hurts,  _ Sam.” 

“I know it does, baby,” Sam murmured. “But the pain will go away, there you go, injection’s over. How do you feel?” 

Lucifer gave a weak thumbs up and Sam chuckled as he slid the band aid on over his hip, placing a gentle kiss. “There you go, angel.” 

“Thanks,” Lucifer murmured, slowly sitting up as Sam got the morning’s medications ready. 

No one saw Sam slyly grab the bottle of sleeping pills and tuck it into his briefs and pants, behind his balls. Not even his husband, who was normally very in tune with his surroundings. The only one who might have seen would be one of the guards, but Sam had already bribed him by offering him his medical library collection, so the guard’s daughter wouldn’t have to buy brand new schoolbooks. 

After that, it was a fairly normal day for the couple. They went out into the exercise yard that morning, after roll call and breakfast, and they simply walked laps next to the fence, talking about their future and getting the medication flowing through Lucifer’s leg. Sam was teasing him good naturedly, with Lucifer just shaking his head in amusement. 

No one seemed to bother them today. Everyone seemed to realize that they just wanted a quiet day, no trouble. A couple of the prisoners who had made semi decent friends with the killers wished them a happy anniversary, which was rewarded with soft smiles and whispered thank yous.

"Remember us wanting to build that cabin off the grid?" Sam asked as they sat down on a bench so he could expertly massage his husband's hip.

"I remember," Lucifer smiled. "We were one week away from making that a reality. Pull off our own disappearing act."

"I should be preparing venison for you right now."

"Hey," Lucifer soothed, kissing Sam sweetly. "Don't feel bad, baby. We're still here. We're still together, right?"

"Right," Sam smiled.

They shared a few more tender moments, Sam's fingers rubbing deep circles into the tissues underneath.

For dinner, Sam got permission from the Warden to make their usual anniversary meal of venison steaks, grilled to divine perfection; mashed potatoes with homemade gravy, and corn. Sam spent his afternoon time to prepare the meal.

Lucifer was speechless. "Sam. . ."

"It was no trouble convincing him to let me do this," Sam soothed, kissing his husband's brow. "I had to, I would've felt wrong not doing it."

Lucifer smiled and bade his doctor to sit down and enjoy. It was, after all, their last meal, at least on this plane of existence. Sam hoped that in Hell, he could make and serve his husband fine dinners like this every day. Lucifer hoped that in Hell, neither of them would have to cook, freeing up more time to be with each other.

"Thank you," Lucifer said, surrendering his plate and utensils the guard who came to pick up the remnants of their meal, not that there was much.

"Of course, baby. Happy anniversary." Sam smiled warmly.

Lucifer stood up and lead Sam back to his cell, where they would be having their last moments together. He asked one of the prisoners to stand guard nearby, in case somebody wanted a show. The prisoner, a newbie who had taken a liking to Sam and Lucifer, nodded and promised no one would see them.

Lucifer took his time this night. He undressed Sam slowly, gently, kissing every inch of tanned, toned skin that came into view. By the time Lucifer had completely removed Sam's shirt, the doctor was panting and hard, a thin sheen of sweat covering his torso. "Luci?"

"Shh, baby, just feel," the former Marine whispered soothingly to his husband, and Sam surrendered. They rarely had this gentle, loving sex, at any point. Maybe their first time together, where Lucifer spent an hour alone fingering Sam open while blowing him, keeping him on edge until he thought he would explode. Maybe their wedding night, but Sam's not even sure about that. No, their first time was like this. Slow. Deliberate. Methodical. Lucifer  _ worshipping _ him as though he was a God. For all intents and purposes, he was though.

Lucifer still considered himself lucky to have landed him an Adonis of a man. Selfless, caring, loving, passionate. That was Sam. Harder than steel and brighter than the sun. That, the former Marine supposed, would make him an Icarus, but he didn't care. He wanted to drown in Sam.

Still dressed, he guided Sam over to the cot and gently laid his nude husband down.

Sam understood what was going on. Lucifer was telling Sam how much the older man loved him, cared for him,  _ wanted _ him,  _ appreciated _ him, and everything he's ever done in the only way that he could- through touches, not through words.

It never bugged Sam that Lucifer rarely said "I love you." It was just the way Lucifer thought, operated. He was a tactile man; and preferred to show it through gentle gestures, simple gestures. Hell, Sam knew that the reason why Lucifer never balked about calling Sam the moment he was in the house after gardening (besides his health concerns) was because Lucifer knew it meant something to Sam, and because it was another way to say "I love you."

And that's what Lucifer was telling Sam now, especially with their lips pressed together so sweetly, gently, like they were kissing for the first time.

That's what he was saying with gentle fingers that roamed over the same skin that it's known for eight, nine years. It was sweet, almost innocent. Longing.

They both knew that there shouldn't be a rush with this. It was their last time, after all. They should take their time.

"Luce," Sam breathed. "Clothes."

Lucifer reluctantly drew back and looked at Sam with smoldering azure eyes as he slowly removed his clothes, and Sam drowned in the overwhelming love, adoration, and devotion his husband was bestowing upon him as paler skin came into view, the map of scars all over his hip and back, a soldier's weariness in his shoulders.

Lucifer was tired, Sam realized, and so he beckoned his lover back to bed and the two slowly kissed, Sam running fingers all over his husband.

_ It’s okay, _ they seemed to say.  _ I love you. I’m here with you.  _

And they moved in tandem, as one. With the grace and knowledge of men who have been together for so long, who knew secrets about the other's body.

Sam knew that Lucifer loved it when his nails ran down his back, making the older man arch into them like a cat. He knew that Lucifer loved soft, gentle kisses along his shoulders, neck and face. He knew that his husband liked to be on top, facing him when this sort of thing happened.

Lucifer knew that a nip to Sam's collarbone would make him melt. He knew that the doctor had more erogenous zones than any man he knew and knew which ones to employ now. Collarbones, lips, ear lobes. That sensitive tendon between his shoulders. He knew that his husband loved long, slow kisses and hair stroking.

They may not  _ make love  _ very often, if at all, but when they did, it wasn't with the carnality of everything they had. It was with tenderness and devotion.

Sam cried out as Lucifer breached him with lubed fingers, and Lucifer silenced him with a warm kiss that left gentle nips along the inside of his bottom lip, soothing his husband.

It didn't take long before Lucifer was ready to insert a third finger, but Sam's hand snagged his wrist.

"I want the burn."

"Baby," Lucifer breathed, this time the one being silenced with a kiss.

"Please."

Lucifer couldn't ever say no to his husband. "Fine, but I control how fast you go," he said, withdrawing his fingers.

"Alright."

Without speaking, they maneuvered into a different position, Lucifer sitting up and Sam crawling onto his lap.

The slide down was long and torturous, and several times, the doctor begged for his Marine to go faster, to let him sink down quicker, but the older man shook his head and kept sliding him down.

Once he was bottomed out, Sam wrapped his legs around his husband's waist and looked down at him, shocked by the amount of love pouring out of his husband's eyes.

"I love you," Lucifer breathed as Sam wiggled around on his dick.

"I love you too," Sam whispered.

Their lips met in a slow, sensuous glide as Sam began rocking himself on his husband's cock slowly but surely.

They didn't break for air. They didn't break for anything. They held each other, kissed each other, rocked into each other as one.

Some prisoners caught a glimpse of the sight and they had to look away. The sensuality, the intimacy was one that few had seen, and they felt like they were intruding on the most precious, private moment in existence. In that moment, it was.

Lucifer's weathered hands ran over Sam's smooth back as his husband threw his head back with a cry.

"Luc-"

"I know, sweetheart, I know," Lucifer moaned, both of them groaning as the head of his cock slid over Sam's prostate slowly and tenderly.

For an hour, the world stood still while the Winchester serial killers made love to each other, slowly.  

When they came, it was as one, covering each other in the efforts of their labor of love; sealing their union with a desperate kiss to keep passionate cries in.

They came down from their mutual highs together, as equals.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suicide chapter. Skip if squick

They decided that Sam would be the one to write the suicide note, as he had the know how of how to word everything in the proper way for the warden to honor their wishes. Lucifer curled around him, peppering lazy kisses across his husband’s strong shoulders as he watched him write it out, the two of them giggling over a word or a memory. Sam paused every so often to give Lucifer a sweet kiss that turned filthy quickly more than once, but they always managed to separate before things got too hot and heavy. Their last time having sex was perfect, they had decided, and they didn’t want to have another round. 

“Do you think they’ll honor it?” 

“This is basically our final will, Luce,” Sam murmured, tilting his head back to kiss the hollow of Lucifer’s throat. “Of course they will.” 

Lucifer sighed and ran his fingers through Sam’s hair. “Still can’t believe it.” 

“I know.” Sam nodded, returning to the paper and pen. “I know.” 

They spent the rest of the letter writing in silence. Lucifer signed it after Sam, and they sealed their fate with a kiss that had Sam moaning and Lucifer gripping his ass tightly. 

When they pulled away, they gave each other nods and Sam picked up the pill bottle. “Bottoms up.”

They took turns, swapping the pills back and forth and swallowing them dry. A few times they drank the water out of the sink to help aid in the digestion of the pills and to get rid of the cotton mouth that they were both experiencing. Lucifer wrote his final entry into his journal and the final chapter of his porn novel before lights out was called. 

The guard came over with two of Lucifer’s sleeping pills and Lucifer took them both before crawling into bed with his husband. 

They laid there in silence for a long while, holding each other and listening to their breathing getting labored. Sam kept coughing. 

Finally, the silence was broken. 

"Hey Luce?"    
"Yeah, Sam?"    
"If I had to do this over, y'know what I would've changed?"    
"What's that?"    
"Have you come home sooner."    
"Maybe I wouldn't enlist. Have you move in with me when that sorry excuse for a father kicked you out. You probably would've made your first kill at eighteen then rather than twenty nine."    
"Yeah. Think of how much more we could've had."    
"Yeah."

Another long silence. Sam nearly threw up but he managed to refrain and instead got up on wobbly legs to drink more water before crawling back into bed with Lucifer, who was shaking and pale.    
"Luce?"    
"Hmm?"    
"Think there's an afterlife?"    
"Sammy, if there is, we'd be ruling Hell. Together. The Devil and His Consort."    
"Consort??" Sam sounded offended.    
"Fine. King. You always did look more kingly than I did."    
"I'd like that. To be your King while you sit as the Devil."    
"It'll happen, baby."    
They laced their fingers together, their breathing starting to truly labor. Sam estimated that not much time was left.    
"Lucifer?"    
"Yes?"    
"I love you."    
"How much?"    
"I'd murder for you."    
"Baby, I'd murder with you."    
"One last kiss?"    
"Always. I love you too. See you on the other side."    
Pale chapped lips met warm plump lips as they had the gentlest kiss either one of them remembered having, with the exception of the kiss at their wedding. With it, Sam felt his husband of seven, no, now eight, years slip away. Whether it was off to sleep or off to Death, Sam didn’t know. All he knew was that his husband was dying peacefully, and with that comforting thought, he allowed himself to follow into oblivion, still kissing Lucifer, holding his hand tightly. 

Lucifer felt his husband relax in his arms, barely holding on, and he gave a soft smile into the kiss that was their final act, and he felt his whole body and soul become peaceful. 

For two murderers, having killed fifty men who have called them a variety of names and paid dearly for it; for two men who tortured their victims; for two men who lived life in the fast lane of sex and murder; for two sociopaths who oftentimes rolled around naked while draped in the blood of their victims; for two serial killers who were violent and cruel, their final acts on Earth were some of their most peaceful. 

Lucifer doesn’t know how Sam managed to steal his sleeping pills, nor does he know how Sam managed to get permission from the warden to let them spend the night in one cell together, as an anniversary present. He did know that the two of them had the best night of their lives. The gentle love making was something neither of them had really done, except for maybe their first time. But Lucifer didn’t want his husband to be sore where they were going. He wanted his husband to know that despite what they did, despite the fact that Lucifer rarely said the words “I love you”, that that’s exactly how the Colonel felt about him. That Lucifer did truly and deeply love the near dead doctor in his arms.  He opened his eyes to look at Sam once last time as he slept, feeling sadness that he’ll never see those eyes again, and he gave his husband one last firm squeeze of his hand before allowing the drugs to finally take over his body and lead him down the primrose path of dying.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Lucifer meet Death

They say that when you die, your life flashes before your eyes before erupting into a bright light. 

That’s not what Sam was seeing. 

Sam walked towards the little cabin somewhere in the woods, shivering in his prison uniform as he did so, hurrying towards the little wooden structure as white snow flitted down onto him and the ground

Finding the door handle, he hurriedly opened it and ducked inside, rubbing his hands together to get warm. 

A tall, gaunt figure was waiting in a wooden rocking chair, gently rocking, eyes closed. Sam took a cautious step forward and the eyes snapped open, eagle sharpness trained on him. 

The sallow figure appraised him for a bit, as Sam did the same thing. He honestly looked like a pallbearer or a mortician, dressed in a simple black suit with a narrow tie.  

“Sam Winchester.” He said with a small smile. “I’ve been waiting for you. Where’s your husband?”

“Who are you, and where am I?” Sam countered. 

The being- Sam could tell that this wasn’t something  _ human _ \- gave a low rumble that could have passed for a laugh. “I think you know who I am, Dr. Winchester. You’ve had enough patients describe me to know who I am.”

Sam cocked his head to the side. “So you’re the Grim Reaper,” he said. 

“That’s one of my many names, yes,” the thing confirmed. “I prefer the simplest explanation- Death. I am Death. I am the last thing you shall see on this plane of existence before you pass into the realm where you’re supposed to go.” 

Sam nodded, glancing around at the cabin. “That doesn’t explain where I am,” he said. 

“You wouldn’t recognize it, no. It is a reality that didn’t come to pass in this universe,” Death said, standing up and walking over to Sam. He was taller than Death, but Death exuded power and a certain Grace that must be present with all supernatural beings.

“So. . . what reality are we in right now?” Sam asked. 

“The reality in which you and Lucifer escaped from law enforcement and were able to build your cabin,” the being said with a fond look around. “In multiple universes, this came to pass. Or you were able to convince the judge that the two of you could be rehabilitated and retired here.” 

Sam looked around, tears filling his eyes. This was his home. Another home he built with Lucifer. 

“In the end, all you wanted was to be together, preferably here,” Death explained. “When a person dies, their soul goes to their deepest, darkest desire. Which is here. This is where I will be collecting your soul and delivering it to it’s new home.” 

“Where are we going?” Sam asked. 

“Your souls are going to Hell, in this universe.” 

The doctor nodded. “Are we gonna wait for Lucifer?” He looked towards the window, the snow falling a bit harder. He moved over by the stove. 

“Yes. It is important for your souls to be ferried together.” Death followed Sam’s line of sight. “You’re worried,” he observed. 

Sam nodded. “His hip. . . “

“He’ll be here, Sam,” Death placed a pale, somewhat comforting hand on the taller man’s shoulder. “He’s a former Marine. We’ll wait as long as it takes.”

“Is he. . . is he dead yet?” Sam looked over his shoulder. 

“Almost,” the Grim Reaper soothed. “He took a few extra seconds to relish the time on Earth he had with you before slipping down.”

Sam nodded and looked outside again. 

 

Lucifer hated the snow. 

If he could make snow not exist, he  _ would _ . 

Put simply, it was hard to walk in and the cane didn’t help when it would slip on random patches of ice. 

Still, he trudged onto the cabin, cursing his hip something fierce, using language he hadn’t since the bullet that took him away from the Marines. 

He shivered. 

As much as he hated the heat and the never ending sun in Afghanistan and Iraq, he hated the cold and snow more. 

Finally, he reached the cabin and stumbled in, falling into Sam’s waiting arms. 

“Thank  _ fuck  _ you’re okay,” Sam breathed, kissing his temple. 

Lucifer chuckled. “Think a little snow can slow me down?” he asked playfully. “Nah, I’m fine. Especially now that I’m right where I belong.” He gave Sam a chaste kiss. 

“And you call  _ me  _ the sap,” Sam chuckled. “How’s your hip?” 

“It hurts like a sonofabitch, but I’ll be fine,” he assured his husband before spying the pale gaunt man standing behind them. “Reaper.” 

“Lucifer. You’ve aged well.” 

Sam looked at Lucifer. “You two have  _ met _ ?”

Lucifer nodded. “On the battlefield I got shot at,” he explained. “I went into shock and honestly thought I was dying. It was hot when I came here first, but he was here. He told me to turn around, that my time wasn’t here yet, and that he’ll be here when it is.” 

Death nodded with a smile. It was a smirk, more so, but it was kinder than one. “Are you boys ready to go assume your thrones?” he asked. 

Sam looked at his husband and nodded. “I am.” 

Lucifer smiled and cupped the back of his husband’s head. “I am too.”

Death nodded and stepped towards them, placing hands on their shoulders. 

“I love you,” Lucifer whispered to Sam. 

“I love you too, my angel.” Sam whispered back before two flashes of white light appeared, and they were gone. 


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Lucifer are discovered; autopsies are done.

Roll call comes the next morning, and frankly, Warden Turner is pissed off when he doesn’t see his two death row inmates. 

“Where are the Winchesters?” He asked the nearest guard. 

“Sir. . . Dr. and Col. Winchester are dead,” the guard replied. 

“What?!” The Warden’s not happy. 

“Sir, they were found this morning. We can’t even pry the bodies apart.” He leads him to the cell, where a white sheet has already been laid over them. A handwritten note laid on the bedside table of Col. Winchester. He strode over and picked up the note. 

_ To the Warden:  _

_ Thank you so much for allowing me one last night with my husband. The two of us cannot thank you enough for gifting us our eighth wedding anniversary together, even though it means our deaths.  _

“What the actual hell?” 

_ Believe me, we’d rather die by the State, but only if it was going to be firing squad. Unfortunately, the State doesn’t allow for that, only lethal injection. Because of the medication my husband takes for his post war injuries, including his PTSD, he would have a horrible reaction to the injection and you would have a botched execution on your hands. It was originally only him- assisted suicide, by a physician, but he refused to go without me. In fact, he told me that he didn’t want me to die by myself. Since my only family is my alcoholic brother, who doesn’t even care enough to visit, I opted to go with him.  _

_ I stole my husband’s sleeping pills from the infirmary when I was giving him his cortisone shot today and hid them. It was rather uncomfortable, but I knew it’d be worth it. And it has been.  _

_ We had a wonderful, final anniversary together, filled with our last meal and a last night of love making. We have both taken the beginning doses, and Luce is taking his next batch as I write this. I will probably die quicker- he’s built up a tolerance, whilst I haven’t. However, as long as I have my husband, I know I will be fine.  _

_ For body removal, call our brothers; Dean Winchester and Gabriel Novak.  _

_ Enclosed with our personal effects when we came here five months ago was a SD chip, about 16 GB. Please give this to Gabriel Novak so he knows what our last will and testament is and how we would like to be buried. Have them watch it before getting our bodies.  _

_ Thank you, once again, for allowing me to have one last night with my husband. It’s now time for us to go. Our story’s written, and we’ll live on in history.  _

_ Yours- _

_ Samuel L. Winchester, M.D. and his loving husband, Colonel Lucifer D. Winchester, ne Novak, USMC _

Warden Turner sighed and lowered the note to glance at the two bodies, curled up around each other. He lowered the sheet from their faces to do a quick facial recognition check, and raised his brow in surprise when he saw that they were kissing, even in death. 

“Call Dr. Engel,” he ordered quietly. “I want these two autopsied, just to make sure that they died of what they said they did.” 

“Yes, Sir,” the guard said quietly. Other inmates were gathering around, whispering. Most of the whispers were about how they were going to miss them. Both of the Winchesters stuck up for those who couldn’t do it themselves, although it was mainly Dr. Winchester who did the fighting; the Colonel’s bad hip prevented him from doing more but the handful of times that he did fight he nearly killed people, only person who could stop him was his husband. But there were the other whispers that spoke of how glad they were that the Winchesters were gone. They scared the other inmates, with how  _ normal  _ they were. How they often spent time together just reading or enjoying each other’s company. How they were loving towards each other. How it was hard to fathom that they killed so many people. And for that reason alone, Warden Rufus Turner was  _ very  _ glad that they were dead. 

 

Dr. Emmanuel Engel looked at Warden Turner with dark blue eyes and shaggy black hair as he pulled off the gloves. How he managed to separate them to do the autopsies, he didn’t know, but they now were on separate gurneys, still holding hands. The wedding band on the doctor’s left ring finger shone brightly in the harsh halogen lights. 

“They did die of an overdose of the prescription sleeping pills Colonel Winchester had,” he announced gravely. “They went quietly, peacefully. Doctor Winchester died maybe five minutes before Colonel Winchester did, most likely due to a lower tolerance of the medication. Colonel Winchester did take a few more than his husband.” 

Warden Turner nodded. “Thank you, Dr. Engel. So, there was no suffering?” 

“None at all. They did simply slip away quietly.” Dr. Engel washed his hands as he looked over at Warden Turner. “Did they say how they wanted their remains to be taken care of?” 

Warden Turner rocked his hand back and forth. “The note said to give an SD chip to Gabriel Novak, one of their brothers. It apparently details how they want their bodies to be taken care of.” 

Dr. Engel nodded. “Alright. Do you need anything else, Sir?” 

Warden Turner shook his head. “Nah, son. I’m good. Just got to fill out the paperwork. Email me the autopsy?” 

“Of course.”

Warden Turner left and Dr. Engel sighed heavily as he looked at the two inmates on his gurneys and shook his head. “The two of you really went off the deep end, didn’t you?” 

The bodies remained silent and Dr. Engel sighed again. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’ll miss you two.” 

The two still remained silent and Dr. Engel smiled softly.  He reached down and squeezed first Lucifer’s, then Sam’s cold, dead hands. “Perhaps the three of us aren’t that different after all.”


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Gabriel collect their brothers' bodies.

“These are their personal effects,” the gruff warden informed them, handing Dean and Gabriel the clothes that their brothers had been brought in, Sam’s watch and Lucifer’s key to “the Inn’s” toolbox; an SD chip; Sam’s laptop; their firearms; and Sam’s medical bag. “The SD chip details how they want their bodies to be taken care of. There’s also two notebooks, Lucifer’s. One’s a journal he kept, the other. . . well, softcore porn is probably the best way to describe it. They’re for Gabriel- the inside covers said that he’ll know what to do with them.” 

Gabriel nodded solemnly. He couldn’t believe that his older brother, the one who raised him, was dead and gone. Even if he did help kill about fifty people and led the police on a manhunt across the country, landing them in prison and on death row. It was his brother, and he knew Lucifer probably had had a breaking point. Sammy, too, since Sammy was the sweetest kid he knew. 

“First Cas, now Luci,” he sighed. 

Dean nodded. 

Gabriel looked at the warden. “Is there a place we can watch the SD chip?” 

“My office, I got to go do roll call,” he grumbled. He pointed in that vague direction. 

“Thank you.” 

The duo walked down, Dean sniffling a little bit at the loss of his baby brother and Gabriel silently wondering where Luci went wrong. What happened to cause him to snap. 

It didn’t take them long to set up the SD chip into Sam’s laptop and hack into it, although Gabriel wished he didn’t have to do this. 

“Is it running?” He heard Lucifer ask as their faces filled the screen. It was inside a motel room, somewhere. Maybe the same hotel they got caught at. Gabriel didn’t know. 

It was from six months ago, that’s all he knew. 

“If you’re watching this, we’re probably dead,” Sam said. “Either by the State or by our own hand.” 

“Way to start out, Sam,” Lucifer chuckled, sitting on his husband’s lap. 

“Hush, Luci.” The two shared a tender smile with each other before redirecting their attention at the screen. “We’re probably dead, and since we can’t exactly get our last will and testament notarized and written, we figured this was the best way.” 

Lucifer nodded. “All our personal effects belong to our brothers. Do what you want with them; we only ask that you may keep a small thing to remember us by.” 

“Our house reverts back to the bank,” Sam added. “Whether or not they tear it down is entirely up to them.”

“My medals and my flag from my time in the Marines go to Gabriel,” Lucifer said quietly. “Gabe, if you’re watching this, I know it’s a poor apology, but. . . I don’t want Mike to have them, I’m sure you understand.” 

Sam pressed a kiss to Lucifer’s cheek. “If Dean’s watching this, I want you to know that there was nothing you could’ve done to have prevented this. Nothing. This was the path I probably would have chosen regardless. I’m sure you understand.” 

“We’re not monsters. Not like the media portrays us,” Lucifer added. “We’re more. . . . well, something.” 

“We only killed those who were homophobic or a vet basher. Luci’s breaking point was when an ignorant thirty year old man mistook him for a Vietnam veteran. You can imagine the slurs that came out of his mouth,” Sam said quietly, hugging his husband close. 

Gabriel paused the video and took a deep breath.    
“I don’t get it,” Dean mumbled. 

“Vietnam veterans were treated horribly when they got home,” Gabriel explained softly. “They were called rapists and murderers, baby killers and misogynists. I. . . I never knew.” 

Dean nodded, understanding now. Lucifer was exceedingly proud of his military service, and to be called a murderer and a rapist. . . He may’ve never really liked the guy, but he respected him and how he took care of Sam, both before and after he enlisted and came home. 

Gabriel unpaused the video. 

“Sam’s was the day some kid- okay, he was like twenty-five- told him that he was going to Hell for being with me. I think it was close to or on the same day,” Lucifer added. 

Sam nodded and nuzzled into Lucifer. 

Dean paused the video this time. “Words our father told him, the night he left,” the older Winchester said quietly. “That’s why it hits Sam so hard- I think even back when we were kids, he had a crush on Luce.” 

Gabriel nodded. “I could see that,” he admitted. “Fuck. . . no wonder they snapped. Things they’re proud of, that they shouldn’t be ashamed of.” 

They unpaused the video and continued watching it. 

“We know we’ve killed a lot of people,” Sam said, and Lucifer snorted. 

“Babe, we’ve killed fifty people in the past six years. That’s like eight people a year.” 

“Is that all, angel?” Sam chuckled, kissing his neck. “Seems like more.” 

“Fifty people in eight years IS a lot, babe.” 

“Whatever. We’ve tortured them, too. There’s a couple of videos, somewhere, of Luci’s and my finest works. But we were doing a civic duty.”   
“You mean, we killed people that personally offended us. I don’t think that’s a civic duty.” 

“The world doesn’t need vet bashers and homophobes.” Sam’s voice dropped low, growling. 

“No, it doesn’t.” Lucifer’s voice was soothing, gentle, and he stroked his hair. Sam relaxed. 

“We tortured and killed those who just merely offended us.” Sam said once he was calmer. “And maybe it’s a good thing we’ll be locked up or what not. And maybe it’ll be a good thing that we’re dead.” 

“Babe, don’t say that,” Lucifer hummed, kissing his temple. “Since we are dead as you’re watching this, we want to be cremated. Together. We’re probably already separated, as much as the medical examiner would have been able to if this was a suicide, but don’t even bother putting us in separate kilns. Same kiln.” 

“What you do with the ashes is up to you,” Sam added, subdued and quiet. “But that’s our wish.” 

“The next part of the video you probably don’t want to see,” Lucifer smirked, looking at his husband. “Since this is probably the last time I’ll probably be able to fuck my husband, I’m going to do that. And I’m too lazy to turn off the camera.”    
“Lucifer!” Sam sounded scandalized. “Turn it off! Dean and Gabe and possibly Michael don’t need to see this!” 

Lucifer laughed and whispered something in Sam’s ear and Sam flushed. “Fine. We can fulfill your porno fantasy,” he chuckled. 

“Excellent,” Lucifer purred, picking Sam up. 

The remaining thirty to forty minutes was nothing porn, and while Gabriel was intrigued, Dean wasn’t about to watch his little brother get fucked by his husband and have that be his last memory of his baby brother. 

“Wow. So. . . cremation?” Dean said, closing his brother’s laptop, killing the sounds of Sam’s begging for release and Lucifer’s taunts about not letting him cum. He felt bad for all the viruses he put on the various laptops Sam had over the years, thanks to going onto sites like Busty Asian Beauties. Or even the couple of videos he had of Cas from when they were in high school. 

“Yeah. Should we keep their wedding rings?” Gabriel asked. 

“Let’s get like a leather cord, we can put them on there and wrap them around their ashes,” Dean suggested. 

“Good idea,” Gabriel said. “Do. . . Do you mind if I keep them? You’re usually over at my house anyways.” 

Dean nodded. “No, go ahead,” he said. 

The two walked into the morgue. 

“Hello, Mr. Winchester, Mr. Novak. I’m Dr. Engel,” the medical examiner greeted them. “Are you here to pick up Dr. and Colonel Winchester?”    
They nodded. “Yes,” Gabriel said. “They expressed their desire to be cremated. Is there a way that you can do that here?” 

“Of course. I’ll alert the crematorium. I take it they don’t want separate kilns?”    
“How’d you guess?” Dean asked with a little slur in his voice. 

“When they came into my morgue, they were wrapped up around each other, holding hands, and kissing,” Dr. Engel said softly. “I’d highly doubt two people who died in such a manner would want to be separated, even in death.”

They nodded. “Yes, same kiln, please. We’d like to preserve their wedding rings, though,” Gabriel said. 

“Of course.” The medical examiner bent to remove first Lucifer’s, then Sam’s wedding rings and handed them to the shorter man. 

“Thank you,” Gabriel said. 

The more Dean stared at the really hot medical examiner, the more he was reminded of his high school sweetheart. He missed Cas, more than ever. When Cas ran off, Dean lost himself to the drinking and turned into his father. 

_ Is it better that I became an alcoholic, and Sammy the killer?  _ He wondered to himself.  _ Or would it have been better if I’m about to head to the crematorium in Sammy’s place?  _

There was just something about those bright blue eyes and the dark black hair and the cadence of his speech that Dean could see Castiel in every inch of this man. 

But Cas was gone. Forever gone, ran away when Dean was about to get down on one knee and propose. The day before. And since then, Dean’s been on a downward spiral that he tried to get out of, many times, but couldn’t. 

He supposed he had to now, especially since now Sammy was gone. 

He remembered what Sam said, maybe two years ago, in an attempt to get Dean back on his feet again. How Cas was dead, or didn’t care about Dean anymore. 

_ Did Sammy kill him? _ He wondered now.  _ Did Cas say or do something while we were kids and that was Sam’s first kill? Is that why after Dad died he began distancing himself from me? Because he killed Cas and now he feels guilty about it? What if Sam’s kill count isn’t fifty, but fifty one? And the first one was Cas?  _

“I will call the crematorium right now, and then sign over everything to you,” Dr. Engel finished saying, jerking Dean out of his thoughts. “I am truly sorry for your loss.” 

Gabriel nodded. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. 

Dean nodded numbly and reached into his jacket for his flask. 

When Dr. Engel’s back was turned, he looked at Gabe. "Y'know who he looks like, Gabe?"    
"Who's that, Dean-O?" Gabriel asked, sucking on a sucker.    
"Cas!" Dean reached into his jacket for his flask again.    
Gabriel gave a cursory glance at the medical examiner. "Nah, it probably isn't him. 'Sides, you're drunk. Have some respect- your brother just died." He tried to get the offending container out of the alcoholic’s reach, but Dean triumphed and groaned happily when the whiskey hit his lips.   
"It's okay, Sammy wouldn't have cared." Dean waved a dismissive arm and lurched towards  the dark haired, blue eye medical examiner. "Heyy," he slurred. "You look like my high school sweetheart. His name was Cas." His voice turned dreamy. "But you're not my Cas. My Cas ran off. Or died. Sammy could’ve killed ‘im. Said that Cas was dead, two years back. I hope he’s not dead." he sniffled, dabbing his eyes with his jacket.   
A hand reached out towards the crying man, sleeve rolling up to reveal a set of black angel wings wrapping around his strong wrist, and the gravel laden voice of the medical examiner spoke more clearly at that point.  

"Hello, Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DO NOT APOLOGIZE FOR THE CLIFFHANGER.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell
> 
> Artist: ellstra
> 
> Betas: platonic-rabbit, brieflymaximumprincess
> 
> Comments and Kudos are Shiny!!


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